


The Family of Bloods Nature

by l-ouresdeLuna (facemyJam)



Series: Rose Stays [7]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode: s03e08-09 Human Nature/Family of Blood, F/F, F/M, Post-Episode AU: s02e13 Doomsday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-04-28 20:41:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14457333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facemyJam/pseuds/l-ouresdeLuna
Summary: Martha was having a lovely vacation until they started being shot at. Now they're stuck in 1913 and Martha is NOT happy about it. She had gotten enough racist comments from Shakespeare, thank you very much. Sadly, though, they have to wait a while to leave, only to have those trigger happy aliens come crashing in. Great.Part Six in the Rose Stays Series.





	1. Marth Has "Let's Do The Time Warp Again" Stuck In Her Head On Repeat

**Author's Note:**

> Updates for this are going to be slow as I still have to write the next part of this series.

“Take me somewhere  _ cold, _ ” Martha demands as they walk up the ramp towards the console. She’s furiously wiping at her sweat and the memory of almost dying from her skin. Her vest top was soaked through and she just wanted a good long shower and then never have water touch her skin again. As if that one aquatic planet hadn’t been enough to make her contemplate staying away from it, they go and almost fall into a star. An angry star that killed four people. She shivers just thinking of what it made them do.

 

“I know just the place,” Rose tells her quietly, her movements slow as she works her way around the console.  _ She must be sore _ , Martha thinks as she takes in Rose’s slow pace.  _ Then again _ , she thinks,  _ she _ did  _ just get possessed _ . “You go an’ shower, I’ll meet you in the wardrobe room afterwards.”

 

Martha wanted to say something, anything to make Rose stop sounding so sad, but she couldn’t think of anything so she just walked to her room to do what she said.

 

Rose waited until they had landed before going to her room and collapsing in on herself. She sits there on her bedroom floor crying her eyes out, trying to get over the panic, the fear, the sheer blinding hatred she feels for herself. She had almost gotten Martha killed again. She had almost gotten  _ herself  _ killed. _ Again _ .

 

_ “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” _ She yells at the room, wishing she had this weight off her chest.

 

It had never really bothered her when she was in near death experiences with the Doctor. In fact, that’s when she usually shone, ear to ear grin on her face, a hand in hers, heart pounding from excitement and a tinge of fear, but the good kind.  **But.** But the Doctor wasn’t here anymore. She could no longer rely on him and it was like her legs had been kicked out from under her. She never noticed how much she relied on the Doctor before, she had only really been living in the moment, saving him from danger and being saved in return. 

 

Now, though, now she was responsible for not only herself, but also Martha. And this horrid weight settled right on her chest, her heart beating against it with every fast thump, making her aware of just how dangerous every step taken outside the TARDIS could be.

 

Overhead the TARDIS hums to her softly, reminding her to get up and shower and show Martha around. Underneath the reminder, Rose could hear the sympathy, the care and sorrow from Her. The TARDIS has had centuries of watching the Doctor stumble in and out of those doors, sometimes coming back with a new face and new personality, so Rose knows She knows what Rose is feeling.

 

“Thanks girl,” she whispers patting the wall as she gets up.

 

In the shower, with the beat of the water on her, all Rose can feel is the phantom, searing heat coursing through her veins, body pulsing to those three words.

 

_ “Burn with me.” _

 

_ \-- _

 

“So, what planet are we on?” Martha asks as she follows Rose through the racks of clothes.

 

Rose smiles in remembrance. She had loved this planet when the Doctor had shown it to her. They had ice skated for so long, the future thermal underwear they had worn eventually stopped working. They both had minor frostbite when they stumbled into the TARDIS, laughing all the way to the medbay. When Martha said somewhere cold, this was the place she knew would steady both of them.

 

“It’s called Woman Wept,” Rose tells her as they come upon the thermal underwear. “It’s a planet that got flash frozen ages ago due to the fallout from a war.”

 

“What war?” Martha asks as she looks for a thermal in her size.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Rose says fast in a voice Martha has never heard from her.

 

“Rose?” she asks, wondering if she’s truly okay after what had just happened.

 

“I’m- it’s-,” Rose sighs. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Just a little tired, but I’m excited to show you all my favourite spots.” She gives Martha a semi-fake smile.

 

“We don’t have to do this now,” Martha tells her and Rose gives her a genuine smile this time.

 

“But we’re already dressed!” Rose insists, threading their arms together and leading Martha out of the room.

 

“If you say so,” Martha says with a fond sigh.

 

\--

 

She gasps as they exit the doors. They’re parked under a giant, frozen crested wave, and both Martha and Rose grasp the edge of the door frame to steady themselves as they look up in awe.

 

“Rose, this is- this is amazing!” Martha shouts, her cheeks already pinking in the frozen air.

 

“Martha, welcome to Woman Wept,” Rose says grandly as she glides out onto the ice, moving in a wide circle before halting to face her friend.

 

“Well,” Martha says as she shakily steps out onto the ice, her ice skates making her ankles hurt as she wobbles out of the TARDIS. “I did say somewhere cold, and you did say flash frozen.”

 

“So, what do you think?” Rose asks a minute later as she angles Martha on top of a small wave that’s high enough to let them see across the frozen sea.

 

“I think,” Martha says, her eyes wide as she take everything in. “I think this is my favourite planet by far.”

 

Rose laughs. “Mine too.”

 

\--

 

It doesn’t take long before Martha is skating alongside Rose, both expertly racing up and down the smaller waves, making nonsensical patterns with their skates on the ice below them.

 

Occasionally, Rose would stop and point out all the little things the Doctor showed her, loving the way Martha ooh’d and ah’d. It seems like something was just determined to show Rose the Doctor’s point of view, first with the responsibility, and now, with Martha’s awed face making the known landscape something new again.

 

“And just past there,” Rose explains before her stomach lets out a loud growl making her blush and Martha laugh so hard she nearly topples over.

 

“So, lunch?” Martha asks. Rose’s stomach rumbles again in agreement and they skate back closer to the TARDIS, where Rose stashed a picnic basket.

 

“I feel like I could eat that,” Rose says pointing to a giant, frozen alien-whale on full display in an equally giant, frozen wave, “I’m so hungry.”

 

Martha laughs. “And leave nothing for me.”

 

“Nope,” Rose agrees. “All mine.”

  
  


Soon, they’re sitting on a heated picnic blanket, sat under the crested wave hovering over the TARDIS, eating hot sandwiches and sipping hot chocolate, talking of whatever popped into their heads.

 

“So,” Martha says wiping crumbs from her shirt. “How  _ did _ you know that Elvis question?”

 

Rose laughs. “My mum would’ve probably disowned me had I gotten an Elvis question wrong.”

 

“Big Elvis fan?”

 

“The only thing that rivaled Elvis in our flat were EastEnders and Cliff Richard movies,” Rose says with a wide, easy smile. “In fact, one time she even taped over one of my old birthday videos because we’d be out for my school play an’ she didn’t want to miss EastEnders.”

 

“She did?” Martha asks incredulously. Even though her own mother wasn’t that sentimental, she still wouldn’t have used an old tape of theirs for a show.

 

“Yep,” Rose chuckles out. “She made up for it, though. I was mad at her for weeks an’ she basically had to drag me outta my room an’ into the living room. When she put in a tape I thought she was gonna show me that EastEnders video, but it wasn't.” Her voice goes soft as she looks out at a frozen wave. “It was my dad,” she whispers. “He was holding me as a baby, trying to calm me down, an’ not quite succeeding.”

 

Martha wants to say something, but no words form. All she could offer were empty platitudes, nothing Rose hadn't heard before.

 

“I bet,” Martha starts anyway. “I bet I have more crazy mom stories than you,” she taunts jokingly. Rose gives her a light laugh.

 

“You're on. Winner chooses the next planet.”

 

“Deal,” Martha says shaking Rose’s outstretched hand. Even if she loses, at least she'll make Rose laugh.

 

\--

 

“Get down!” Rose shouts hovering over Martha protectively as a bomb gets set off beside them.

 

“I liked our first vacation better!” Martha yells at her as they run for their lives through a tropical forest. Their contest turned out to be a tie, both of them stopping the game because they got too cold even bundled up in all the alien thermal tech.

 

“Me too!” Rose pulls Martha down another path as a bullet explodes the tree to their right. They race right into the TARDIS, Martha slamming the doors closed as Rose goes over and hurriedly pushes buttons.

 

“You okay?” Rose asks as they enter the Vortex eyeing Martha who is leaned against one of the coral struts panting.

 

“Yeah, sure,” she huffs. She’s about to walk to the jump seat when the TARDIS pitches violently to the left throwing both girls to the floor. “What was that?”

 

“Apparently we’re being followed,” Rose tells her as she clutches the edge of the console looking at the screen incredulously.

 

“I didn’t think that was possible.”

 

“Me neither.” Rose jumps around from one random button to another somehow keeping her balance as the TARDIS keeps jerking around. “Alright, looks like we’ve gotta land.”

 

“Where?” Martha asks. “And won’t they be able to follow us?”

 

“Most likely if they got themselves a Vortex Manipulator, but She’s already overdue for a tune up and now this,” Rose says grunting as the TARDIS emits a high pitched whine.

 

“What? Vortex Manip-what?”

 

“Later!” Rose shouts before slamming her fist down on a yellow button and suddenly the TARDIS stops moving, the console room going dark. Rose blows the hair from her face going over to the computer screen and slapping its side before it flickers on. Martha makes her way over on shaky feet.

 

“What was that?” Martha asks holding a hand to her throbbing head.

 

“They did have a Vortex Manipulator,” she explains. “They managed to follow us into the Vortex and shot at the TARDIS,” Rose says pushing a couple of buttons on the keyboard under the computer screen. “An’ now the TARDIS is in emergency mode so they can’t track Her.”

 

“What does that mean for us?”

 

“It means we’re stuck wherever we are until we can fix Her,” Rose sighs out rubbing her forehead. “Sorry, Martha.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Martha says with a shrug. “So, when and where are we?”

 

“Good news is we’re on Earth,” Rose says with a grimace. 

 

“And?” Rose heaves a sigh.

 

“It’s October first, nineteen thirteen.”

 

“Great.”

 

\--

 

“So, what do we do now?” Martha had asked and now she is regretting it. Because, apparently, what they do now is go out into 1913 for whoever knows how long. Rose as a librarian and Martha as a maid servant.

 

“I’m sorry, Martha,” Rose apologizes for what feels like the millionth time, but she can’t shake the guilt the situation brings. Rose knows they are lucky enough the TARDIS worked well enough to give them ID’s and jobs, through being shut down and in need of repairs.

 

“I understand,” Martha huffs out, battling with her maids apron, her feet already in pain from the uncomfortable shoes. “I hate it, don’t think I don’t, but I understand.” Sorta. Rose still hadn’t explained to her what a Vortex Manip-whatever was, or who was after them, but Martha knew that if Rose could choose another location and time period for them to land in, she’d do it.

 

“You’re taking this a lot better than I had when I had to dress up as the maid or servant,” Rose observes.

 

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m just the better person,” Martha teases, cherishing the wide smile Rose gives her in return.

 

“So, you ready?” Rose asks her clutching their suitcases.

 

_ 1913 _ , Martha thinks bitterly.  _ Why’d it have to be bloody 1913? _ She shoots another glance at Rose, who looks guilty and equally as itchy as Martha feels.

 

“Sure, why not?” Martha says with a shrug, her grip tightening on the rest of the cases they need. It’s not like Rose is comfortable here either, so that makes her feel slightly better.

 

\--

 

The first thing Martha does upon seeing her new room for the foreseeable future, is take back what she said about feeling slightly better. The maids quarters are barely habitable for  _ one _ person, let alone the two meant to be crammed in here. Her new roommate, Jenny, is nice enough, though. At least she isn’t put off by her skin tone, so, that’s a plus.

 

She just really wishes she had her bed back on the TARDIS, because that thing was like floating while sleeping. Really, though, sleeping on a  _ sack of potatoes _ sounded better than sleeping on this torture device called a bed.

 

And don’t even get her started on the toilet situation!

 

\--

 

ONE MONTH LATER

 

Rose yawns as she sits up in bed, her back twinging a little due to the poor padding. She hates how this is now her life. A knock sounds at the door and she stretches.

 

“Come in,” she yawns out, pulling back her covers and getting out of bed. Martha enters, already dressed for the day in her maids outfit, carrying a tray full of food and tea and Rose remembers that she’s got the better part of this 1913 deal.

 

“Pardon me, Mrs. Smith,” Martha says as she sets the tray down before hurrying to close the door. Once it’s closed she leans heavily against it, letting out a loud sigh, just like she has been doing every day since they landed here.

 

She comes over and sinks into one of the cushy chairs placed in Rose’s room, hand out to accept the well jammed toast Rose fixed for her.

 

“Rough morning?” Rose asks as she fixes her own toast.

 

“Rough everything,” Martha sighs, leaning forward and placing a hand on the centre of her back. “I’d get better sleep lying on the gravel road outside than that monstrosity they call a bed!” Rose pats her arm softly, shoving a strong cup of tea at her, two scoops of sugar and a splash of milk.

 

“I’m sorry, Martha. I’m going as fast as I can, but I still have to translate the books from Gallifreyan to English. It’s not an easy process, mostly because Gallifreyans aren’t, apparently, straightforward about how to fix a TARDIS.” Rose viciously bites into her toast, thinking about the long winding text she’s been able to translate so far. Translate, yes, but understand? No, not really.

 

“She still not talking to you?”

 

Rose sighs. “No, and I’m worried the longer it goes on. What if She’s really hurt but I can’t fix it in time?”

 

“Hey, hey,” Martha says softly. “I thought morning’s were for me to gripe.” She gives Rose a small smile, which Rose returns.

 

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, go on. What’s bothering you today?”

 

Martha scoffs, drinking some tea as she works herself back up into a lather. “The students,” she grits out. “I wouldn’t be so upset if I could just strangle their grimy little necks!” She puts her hands up, hands clawing as she imagines various students necks in between them.

 

“Who’s saying things?” Rose asks, brows furrowing in anger as she sits up. “I’ll set ‘em straight.” Martha snorts as she drops her hands to fall around her teacup.

 

“Rose, you’d just get them all starry eyed, and you know it. You know they all want to have their way with you.” Rose grimaces, shivering a little at the thought.

 

“That’s gross, Martha.”

 

“ _ Speaking _ of starry eyed,” Martha says with a crooked smile, changing the subject.

 

“Oh, Martha, please!” Rose says as she jams up another slice of toast. “Jo- The Matron isn’t like that!”

 

“I didn’t mention her name!” Martha says holding her hands up before catching on to a detail. “Hold on, were you gonna call her  _ Joan _ ?” Her eyes held a mischievous gleam.

 

_ “No, _ ” Rose says a little too quickly, eyes darted away from Martha’s.

 

Martha lets out a laugh that loosens something in Rose’s chest. It had been too long since Martha had laughed freely, and it was all her fault.

 

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Smith,” Martha teases as she takes a satisfactory bite out of her toast. Rose just rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair.

 

“Anyways,” Rose says to move them along. “I’m making a tampon run later today, do you need anything?” While the TARDIS was shut down, they still had access to some of the stuff in their rooms and the medbay.

 

“That hand salve you gave me,” Martha thinks looking down at her hands. “And I thought becoming a  _ doctor _ would make your hands crack.” Rose frowns, but chooses not to make yet another apology. Martha’s gotta be tired of that word by now. She just makes a mental note to bring back some of that salted chocolate Martha likes as well as the salve.

 

They finish up their quick breakfast, Rose helping Martha clean up so that she can go about her other duties as a maid. As Martha leaves with the tray in hand, Rose vows to work faster on the repairs. All she had to do was learn another planet’s mechanics and physics and whatever else was expected of fixing the TARDIS. Piece of cake.

 

\--

Martha is grumbling inside her head as she’s scrubbing the floors. Jenny, the only friend she’s made here, sits beside Martha, smile on her face and humming a little. Martha doesn’t know how she can be so happy doing what’s basically slaves work, but Jenny hasn’t complained so far.

 

“Morning, ma’am,” Martha greets Rose who’s walking up to them.

 

“Good morning, Martha,” Rose greets back cheerily, as if they hadn’t just had breakfast together. “Good morning, Jenny.” Jenny blushes and ducks her head further, her go to response when Rose was nice to her. Rose smiles widely before going up the stairs, her eyes already focused on the books in her hands.

 

“Head in the clouds, that one,” Jenny says nodding towards Rose who almost bumps into a student. “Don’t know why you’re so eager to talk to her. A proper lady she's not, what with her nose always being in a book.”

 

“She’s just kind to me, that’s all,” Martha explains with a shrug. Like she can tell Jenny the truth. “Not everyone’s that considerate, what with me being…,” she gestures to her face.

 

“A Londoner?” Jenny teases. This is why Martha likes her. Jenny treats her like a human being while the other maids turn their noses up at her; some of them even go behind her to clean the same things she cleans. Martha _ hates _ the early 1900’s.

 

“Exactly. Good old London town!” Martha says a little loudly. She hears footsteps stopping and looks up to see two senior boys and groans internally.

 

“Er, now, you two,” a boy Martha thinks is called Barnes or something says pompously. “You’re not paid to have fun, are you? Put a little backbone into it.” The other boy beside Barnes snickers and Martha wishes she could cuff the both of them.

 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Jenny says quickly ducking her head again.

 

“You there,” the other boy, Hitchins or whatever, Martha couldn’t care less, says. “What’s your name?”

 

“Martha, sir. Martha Jones.”

 

“Tell me then, Jones,” Hitchins says with a sneer and Martha braces for the racist comment. “With hands like those, how can you tell when something’s clean?” Martha clenches her jaw to refrain from cussing at him.

 

“That’s very funny, sir,” Martha says to their backs as the two walk off laughing at their joke.

 

“Careful, now,” Jenny warns. “Don’t answer back.”

 

“I’d answer back with my bucket over his head.”

 

“Oh, I wish,” Jenny says shaking her head. “Just think, though, in a few years, boys like that’ll be running the country.”

 

“1913,” Martha mutters thinking of the war to come. “They might not.”


	2. Oh, Right, The Aliens. The Deadly Aliens. The Deadly Aliens Trying To Kill Us. Those Aliens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude, I'm actually updating on schedule! It may not seem like it, but I actually am! I am so proud of myself! Now, if only I could write some words that are about the episode AFTER this one and not four after, lol.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” one of the students mumbled as they bumped past Matron Redfern. She barely paid the kid any attention as she watched Mrs. Smith struggle to stay upright after tripping, the books in her hands precariously balanced.

 

“Good morning, Mrs. Smith,” she greets, moving forwards to help the woman.

  
“Oh, good morning, Matron,” Rose says before sighing as she drops several of her books. Both Matron and Rose kneel to pick the fallen ones up.

 

“Here, let me help you,” the Matron tells her, grabbing the scattered books.

 

“Oh, thank you,” Rose says smiling up at her as they stand. The Matron was always so ready to help Rose whenever needed and a part of her recognized it was because the Matron was lonely. She had a similar look to her eyes, like the Doctor, like Rose herself. The look of loss. “So, how was Jenkins?”

 

“Oh, just a cold,” the Matron assures her after thinking back to the student who just left. “Nothing serious. I think he’s missing his mother more than anything.”

 

“Poor lad.”

 

“He just received a letter this morning, so he’s a lot more chipper. I appear to be holding your books,” she says after a minute of them standing in the hall.

 

“Oh, sorry, let me just,” Rose apologizes struggling to fix the stack in her hands to make room for more.

 

“No, why don’t I take half?” the Matron suggests already moving to grab two more off the top of Rose’s stack, lightening her load considerably.

 

“Thanks,” Rose says with another smile. In truth, she had been getting tired of keeping up with so many books. Why have so many addendums in different sections of different books? Rose had half a mind to fix the TARDIS to go back to when Gallifrey was there and giving them a piece of her mind.

 

“So, these books, were they being taken in any particular direction?” the Matron asks with a teasing smile after they are stood there for another minute.

 

“Yes, right! This way,” Rose says, pointing one of her elbows towards the Library. “I appreciate the help, Matron.”

 

“Now, Rose, I thought we agreed to use our first names when it’s just us,” The Matron chastises.

 

“Oh, sorry Joan, I’ve gone a little scatterbrained at the mo-oment,” Rose says, almost slipping from her 1913 character. It’s just, with trying to translate these manuals quicky and having her Librarian duties to tend to, while at the same time pretending to be Rose Smith, grieving widow, she just feels like she’s being pulled in all directions. She’s never had to keep her cover for so long, and it’s been hard sticking to who she’s supposed to be.

 

“Understandable,” Joan says, forgiving easily enough. “I hear you are working two jobs?”

 

“Yea-s.  _ Yes _ ,” Rose says with a throat clear. “I’m translatin’ all these for my second job and so I feel a little like a whirlwind has me in its grip.”

 

“Is it the funeral costs that have you working two jobs?” Joan asks throwing Rose off for a second until she remembers, feeling the weight of the ring on her finger. She looks down at it, spinning it with her thumb before sighing.

 

“To be honest,” She says already lying. “It’s just to keep me busy. I didn’t want to see the days grow as I am without him.”

 

“And oh, how the number grows,” Joan says sadly, softly, her eyes downcast. “I was like that, too, when I first lost Oliver. I worked in one of London’s most busiest hospital, tried to work so hard I’d just collapse without dreaming.” She clutches the books tightly to her chest, blinking rapidly to avoid crying.

 

“Joan-”

 

“Have you seen this?” Joan asks as they come upon the notice board near the staircase, trying to change the topic. “The annual dance at the village hall tomorrow. It’s nothing formal, but rather fun by all accounts. Do you think you’ll go?”

 

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Rose says honestly, her mind had been occupied with fixing up the TARDIS so Martha wouldn’t have to endure one more racist comment. She hadn’t had time to pick her head up out of the books in the evenings when the school faculty was ample with school gossip and town news.

 

“It’s been ages since I’ve been to a dance,” Joan sighs wistfully, no doubt thinking of Oliver.

 

“Me too,” Rose tells her, thinking of her first Doctor and Jack twirling her around the console, both trying to edge the other out to dance with her alone and her in between laughing at them. Rose notices Joan eyeing the leaflet with longing and gets an idea. “We should go together.” She’s not thinking of the time period, she just knows she really needs a break or she’ll burn out at this rate. And one night of fun isn’t going to hurt anybody. “Going with a friend sounds loads better than with a last minute date.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t even have a dress,” Joan says, cheeks reddening. 

 

“So we’ll go into town, have a girls day,” Rose says changing directions to put the books back in her room.

 

“Rose!” Joan calls out as Rose missteps and falls down the stairs.

 

\--

 

“You are much less fussy than the students,” Joan observes as she tends to the back of Rose’s head.

 

“I’ve had more than my fair share of scrapes,” Rose tells her, an easy smile on her face that turns around when Martha bursts in, worry clear across her face.

 

“Is she alright?” She asks the Matron.

 

“Excuse me, Martha,” Joan says scandalously. “It’s hardly good form to enter a mistresses study without knocking.”   
  
“Sorry, right, yeah,” Martha says quickly before going over to the open door, giving it a quick rap with her knuckles before stepping back into the room. “But is she alright? They said you fell down the stairs, ma’am.” She looks Rose over, studiously looking for anything serious. Sure, they’ve had worse accidents and there are those Rose has yet to tell her about, but it still yanked her heart towards her stomach when she heard that Rose had fallen.

 

“No, it was just a tumble, tha’s all. I’m fine, Martha,” Rose reassures, wishing she could stand to hug her friend, knowing what that kind of worry felt like.

 

“Have you checked for a concussion?” Martha asks as she comes further into the room, wishing she could reach out to check Rose’s pulse for herself.

 

“I have. And I daresay I know a lot more about it than you,” the Matron replies haughtily, her glare not fazing Martha in the least.

 

“It’s quite alright, Matron,” Rose placates, hand going up to touch the nurses before going back to her lap. “Martha is worried, is all. She’s been the one taking care of me since my husband passed. She’s a tad overprotective.” Rose dramatically rolls her eyes and Martha has to turn around and pretend to tidy something to keep from laughing aloud.

 

“Overprotective or not, there is still propriety to consider,” Joan tells Rose, who has to hold in a sigh.

 

\--

 

“Ma’am?” Martha calls after the Nurse Redfern as they leave Rose’s room.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I apologize for my rudeness earlier,” Martha says wringing her hands in front of her. For all she teases Rose about this woman, Martha didn’t really like her personally.

 

“You arrived with her, didn’t you? She found you employment here at the school, isn’t that right?” Joan asks ignoring Martha’s apology, her face pinched in a scowl.

 

“Yes, ma’am. I came on just after her husband passed,” Martha repeats what Rose had told the Matron.

 

“Well, I’d be careful,” Joan warns her sternly. “If you don’t mind my saying, you sometimes seem a little  _ too _ familiar with her. Best remember you position.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Martha says with a nod, sticking her tongue out at the woman’s back as she leaves.

 

\--

 

“Ah, Latimer,” a boy by the name Hutchinson says lazily. “Here you are, Latin translation.” He throws the textbook to the floor by Latimer’s feet. “Blaster Catullus. I want it done by morning.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Latimer says meekly with his head bowed.

 

“And no mistakes,” Hutchinson warns. “I want it written by best handwriting,” he says before going to read a letter. “Listen, Father says he’s been promoted. That means more money. Might end up at a better school.” Hutchinson brags to the room. Boys gather round to hear what he has to say.

 

“Ah, he should enjoy it, sir. My uncle had a six month posting in Johannesburg. Says it was the most beautiful countryside on God’s Earth,” Latimer tells him.

 

“What are you talking about?” Hutchinson asks.

 

“Africa. Your father,” Latimer explains.

 

“You been reading my post?”

 

“What?”

 

“You said Africa. I’ve only just read the word myself. How did you know that?” Hutchinson asks as he pushes the boy against a wall.

 

“I haven’t!” Latimer protests.

 

“Have you been spying on me?”

 

“No, I just guessed.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hutchinson asks pushing the boy harder into the wall.

 

“I’m good at guessing, that’s all,” Latimer says scrambling to get out from the older boys grip.

 

“Idiot,” Hutchinson scoffs.

 

“Sometimes I say things and they turn out to be correct. Just little things. Tiny things. I can’t help it. It’s just some sort of luck,” Latimer struggles to explain.

 

“Right, well, never mind that little toad,” a voice from behind them says. “Who’s for beer?” Hutchinson turns his head, keeping a grip on the younger boy.

 

“You’ve got beer?” He asks Baines.

 

“No, but Baxter’s hidden a secret supply in Blackdown woods,” Baines tells him with a smarmy smile.

 

“What are you waiting for?” Hutchinson asks him. Baines just goes over to the window and opens it. “Make sure the Bursar’s down the pub before you go past his window,” he warns Baines.

 

“A bottle for everyone, is it?”

 

“And none for the filth,” Hutchinson says pushing off of Latimer, who sinks to the ground with a small groan. “And hurry back, Baines, I’m parched.”

 

\--

 

Martha shivers as she places two pints on the small outside table just outside the town pub.

 

“Ooo, it’s freezing out here,” Martha says as she huddles into her shawl, longing for that thermal underwear they had on Woman Wept. “Why can’t we drink inside the pub?” she asks Jenny who’s also shivering a little in the night air.

 

“Now don’t be ridiculous,” Jenny tells her with a shake of her head. “You do get these notions! It’s all very well, those Suffragettes, but that’s in London. That’s miles away.”

 

“But don’t you just want to scream sometimes, having to bow and scrape and behave? Don’t you just want to tell them?” Because Martha very much wished she could do those things. Her morning rants and Jenny the only things keeping her sane. When they got out of here, she’s going to slap more than one face on her way out the door.

 

“I don’t know,” Jenny says hesitantly. “Things must be different in your country.”

 

“Yeah, well, they are. Thank God I’m not staying,” Martha sighs into her beer foam.

 

“You keep saying that,” Jenny points out also taking a sip from her mug, but with far more grace than Martha had care right now to give.

 

“Just you wait,” Martha tells her leaning back in the rickety chair. “One more month or so and I’m free as the wind. I wish you could come with me, Jenny. You’d love it.” Maybe she could get Rose to take Jenny with them for one or two adventures.

 

“Where are you going to go?” Jenny asks, curious despite herself.

 

“Anywhere. Just look up there,” Martha says gesturing to the sky above them. “Imagine you could go all the way out to the stars.”

 

“You don’t half say mad things,” Jenny says with a chuckle.

 

“That’s where I’m going. Into the sky, all the way out,” Martha says fanning one arm to rake across the sky while the other brings her beer to her lips. She freezes midway when she sees something flash across the stars. “Did you see that?”

 

“See what?” Jenny asks turning her head to where Martha’s looking.

 

“Did you see it, though? Right up there, just for a second,” Martha asks scanning the sky for another sign of movement.

 

“Martha, there’s nothing there.” Jenny is worried for her friend when the Matron runs up to where they are sitting.

 

“Matron, are you alright?” Martha asks getting out of her chair to go over to the panting woman.

 

“Did you see that? There was something in the woods. This light,” the Matron huffs out looking over to where she was pointing. A set of footsteps on the gravel road alerts them to another person’s arrival.

 

Martha turns to see a confused Rose walking towards them and inwardly sighs in relief.

 

“Everything alright?” Rose asks stopping by the Matron.

 

“There, there,” the Matron says ignoring Rose’s question, pointing to the sky. “Look in the sky.” They all look to where the Matron is gesturing to see a light flash across the sky.

 

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” Jenny says in awe. Martha and Rose, however, exchange worried looks.

 

“Probably a meteorite,” Rose dimisses with a wave of her hand. “Never used to see them in London, but out here you can see ‘em clear as day.”

 

“It came down in the woods,” the Matron says.

 

“No, no,” Rose denies with a shake of her head, panicking on the inside. “No, they always look close, when they’re actually miles off.” She feels bad about putting down Joan’s idea, but if it was who she was thinking it was, then she didn’t want Joan or anyone else near it. She then notices Joan shivering and puts a hand on her shoulder. “You’re cold, Matron. Why don’t I escort you back to the school. Martha, Jenny?”

 

“No, we’re fine, thanks,” Martha says quickly, eyes darting between Rose and the woods where the Matron said the light hand landed. Rose gives her a knowing look before adding her own shawl to wrap around the Matron’s shoulders and leading her back towards the school. “Jenny, where was that? On the horizon, where the light was headed?”

 

“That’s by Cooper’s Field,” Jenny says questioningly. Martha just takes off after the light without even a backwards glance, hiking her skirts up and cursing at her shoes. Jenny huffs. “You can’t just run off! It’s dark! You’ll break a leg!” She shouts after her friend, looking back at her ice cold beer before running after Martha.

 

\--

 

Baines has just found the hidden stash of beer when a green light comes crashing down to the ground near him. He leaves the beer where it was and goes off to investigate.

 

“I say, hello?” he calls out to the empty field. “Was that some kind of aeroplane? You chaps alright?” He walks until he hits a forcefield that turns green upon his touching it. “What? That’s- that’s impossible,” he exclaims pressing his hands against the forcefield and moving sideways.

 

A clunking sound makes Baines turn his head towards it to see a hatch open. “Some kind of door,” he mutters to himself. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

 

Just as he enters, Martha and Jenny happen upon the same field.

 

“There you are,” Jenny says with a smile. “Nothing there. I told you so.”

 

“And that’s Cooper’s Field?” Martha asks eyes scanning the opposite treeline for anything out of the ordinary.

 

“As far as the eye can see, and no falling star. Now, I’m frozen to the bone, let’s go. As your Mrs. Smith says, nothing to see.” Martha reluctantly allows Jenny to steer her around and head back to the school, making a mental note of where the field was so she could come back here with Rose and the sonic screwdriver.

 

\--

 

“But I don’t understand,” Baines says as he looks upon the spacecraft’s interior. “Who are you?”

 

“We are the Family,” a deep voice says from somewhere within.

 

“Far more important, who are you, little thing?” another voice asks Baines, this one sounding female.

 

“My name’s Baines. Jeremy Baines. Please, can I go?” He didn’t know where to direct the question, his eyes darting all around.

 

“I’m so sorry, Baines Jeremy Baines,” the female voice tells him not sounding the least bit sorry. “But I don’t think you can ever leave.” Baines swallows and takes a step back.

 

“But, who are you? Why can’t I see you?”

 

“Why would you want to see us?” the deep male voice asks him.

 

“I want to know what you look like,” Baines says simply because maybe then he wouldn’t be so scared.

 

“Oh, that’s easily answered,” the female voice says. “Because very soon, we will look  _ so _ familiar.” Baines screams as something comes out of the shadows towards him.

 

\--

 

Latimer is sitting on his bed dutifully polishing the other boys’ shoes as the rest play cards on Hutchinson’s bed.

 

“Where is he?” Hutchinson asks for the fifth time that night looking over to the window Baines disappeared through. “Promises us beer then vanishes into the night.” As soon as he’s done talking a knock comes from the same window. “There he is,” Hutchinson says with a smile. “Let him in.”

 

A boy goes over to the window and Baines slowly enters.

 

“Baines, you dolt,” Hutchinson insults slapping his cards down on the bed. “I thought you’d be caught by the rozzers. Well, then? Where is it, man? Where’s the blessed beer?” Hutchinson looks the other up and down as if Baines was hiding it somewhere on his person.

 

“There was no beer,” Baines says haltingly sniffing the air. “It was gone.” He sniffs again loudly and three times in a row.

 

“Damn it all, I’ve been waiting,” Hutchinson sighs. “Pretty poor show, Baines, I have to say. What’s the matter with you? Caught sniffles out there?” he asks as Baines sniffs again.

 

“Yes, I must have. It was cold. Very cold,” Baines says without any inflection.

 

“Well, don’t spread it about,” Hutchinson says turning back to the card game he had going on. “I don’t want your germs. Come on, might as well get some sleep.” He grabs the cards and clumps them all in a pile. “Come on, chaps. Maybe tomorrow. Jackson’s got some beer in the pavilion.” The boys all grumble as they get up and go to their own beds.

 

Latimer looks at Baines as if he’s trying to find out what’s wrong with him. Baines meets his eyes and Latimer ducks his head quickly, going back to polishing the shoes.


	3. Can You Hear Me Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i realized i haven't posted in like, a month. Here ya go. I'm tired man.

Martha loved her days off in her own time period, no work to do of any kind, enjoying staying in bed or lounging on the couch eating junk food. Now, in 1913, though it’s her day off, she’s not enjoying it one bit. The fact that those psycho aliens had found them is only one of the reasons as to why today sucks.

 

She angrily peddles her way through the village and out to the old barn where they had crash landed. Lucky for them, the TARDIS had remained hidden and out of the way. The only downside had been having to hike to where She sat for anything they needed. Especially when what they needed happened to be yet another manual for the time ship.

 

Martha stashes her bike on the side of the barn and stomps her way to the TARDIS, pulling out the yale key Rose had given her after New New York. She opens the door to see scattered tools and books, but not the one that Rose had described to her. They’re both panicking a bit, trying to get the translations done as quickly as possible now that they know those aliens have arrived.

 

“Hey, girl,” Martha says, lovingly patting one of the coral struts as she walks past. She kicks her shoes off, not only because the heels would get stuck in the grating but also because her feet were screaming at her to burn them. She stretches her arms overhead before looking at the bookshelf they had dragged at the doorway of the console room leading into the rest of the TARDIS. This could take a while.

 

\--

 

Rose mutters to herself as she walks into her bedroom at the school. She couldn’t remember where she had put that book pertaining to the- to the something or other that involved the TARDIS. All she really knew was that it was important and she had misplaced it.

 

She’s just about to rip apart her entire room when there’s a knock at the door. She opens it to see the Latimer boy, the one who all the others bully. She’s tried to scold and reprimand those she’s caught doing it, but she knows they just found new ways not to get caught at it.

 

“You told me I could come by and collect a book anytime,” Latimer shyly reminds her and she smiles down at him.

 

“Of course, Mr. Latimer. Come in,” She tells him, opening the door wider and gesturing to the bookshelf in her room. “Any book that catches your eye.” She leaves him to it before going back to her desk and searching the drawers. Maybe she had left it in one? “Sorry for the mess,” she says absentmindedly. “I seemed to have misplaced a book of mine.”

 

“That’s alright, Mrs. Smith,” Latimer says facing the bookshelf, his shoulders hunched. She wonders if she should have another talk with those bullies of his.

 

Tim, meanwhile, was staring very intently at a strange book with odd circular pictures on the spine, the circles spinning and giving him a slight headache. It was like the book was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t understand what exactly that was.

 

He jumps when Mrs. Smith appears beside him, grabbing the book he was staring at with her left hand.

 

“There it is,” she exclaims. He stares at the ring on her finger as it whispers to him.

 

_ “Keep Her hidden. Must keep Her hidden,”  _ It whispers and he’s so entranced with it’s voice he doesn’t realise he’s reaching out to touch it until his hand hits hers.

 

“Are you alright?” Mrs. Smith asks kindly, making him come back to his senses.

 

“Sorry, ma’am,” he says quickly snatching his hand back and pulling it behind him lest he reach out for the ring again. “It’s just a pretty ring,” he tacks on lamely.

 

“That’s alright,” Mrs. Smith says smiling at him. She looks down at her ring, slipping it off her finger and Tim almost yells at her to put it back on. “I s’pose it is.”

 

\--

 

Outside, on the school grounds, Baines’ head whips up to stare at the first storey of the school, taking a deep sniff in through his nose.

 

\--

 

She spins the ring in her hand before putting it back on and Tim loudly exhales, visibly deflating in relief. He likes Mrs. Smith, she’s the only adult to talk to him like he has something important to say. Plus, she’s very pretty and always has a smile to give him.

 

“Did you pick a book?” she asks him, standing back up from where she crouched to grab the strange book. Tim freezes, eyes darting over the books he can see on the shelf at eye level, quickly picking one at random and holding it to his chest, too embarrassed to see what he picked.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, fingers tightening on the book, it’s hard edges digging into his stomach.

 

“You can take your time, Mr. Latimer,” Mrs. Smith tells him kindly and he almost takes her up on the offer, but he still has Hutchinson’s Latin homework to do, so he reluctantly shakes his head.

 

“I’m good, ma’am, thank you,” he tells her, it coming out all in a rush as he basically runs out the door. All the while, her ring is whispering to him that it’s got to keep Mrs. Smith safe.

 

\--

 

A teacher rings the school bell to signal a change of class.

 

“Cut along,” the teacher says to the students. “Classes are starting now. Come along, Jenkins.”

 

Baines ducks underneath the main staircase as soon as he’s sure no one else sees him, a green light illuminating his face.

 

“There’s a trace, but somehow scattered,” he says to thin air. “The scent is confused. Nevertheless, we’d best arm ourselves. Activate the soldiers.”

 

\--

 

A man in a three piece suit is walking across the field when he sees a scarecrow moving its arm and he frowns before trudging over to it.

 

“This is my property, and you’re trespassing on my land,” he tells it poking at its side. “Come on, who’s in there? One of those idiot boys from the school, is it, eh? Come on, let’s-” he starts pulling out the straw stuffing and then his hand comes out the back of the scarecrow. “But how did you…,” he starts looking up at the scarecrow. The scarecrow just tilts its head to one side as if confused. Two more scarecrows have left their perch and come up behind the man grabbing him.

 

“No! Help me!” He shouts out struggling against their grip. “Help me!” He sees more scarecrows appear over the ridge where the rest of his property is.

 

\--

 

In a lane nearby the man’s property, a little girl with a red balloon is skipping down the road when she spots a scarecrow by the trees. She stops and stares as it comes upon her, screaming as it picks her up.

 

\--

 

Latimer is feeding in the ammo belt to Hutchinson’s gun, his mind elsewhere. He hates this class, but one look at Hutchinson’s face tells him all too well that the boy is enjoying this far too much.

 

“Cease fire!” Mr. Rocastle shouts out as he spots the Matron and Mrs. Smith walking out the school near the range. “You’re in fine form today, students,” He tells them his moustache tilting upwards in pride.

 

“Excuse me, Headmaster,” Hutchinson says gaining the man’s attention. “We could do a lot better. Latimer’s being deliberately shoddy.” He sends a sneer at the boy.

 

“I’m trying my best,” Latimer protests, hunching in on himself, waiting for the inevitable reprimand.

 

“You need to be better than the best,” Mr. Rocastle tells him. “Those targets are tribesmen from the dark continent.”

 

“That’s exactly the problem, sir,” Latimer tells him, trying to get him to see. “They only have spears.” He didn’t think it was fair, or right.

 

“Oh, dear me,” Mr. Rocastle says with a slight chuckle. “Latimer takes it upon himself to make us realise how wrong we all are.” The rest of the class joins in on the laughter, Hutchinson punching Latimer on the shoulder as if had told the funniest joke. “I hope, Latimer, that one day you may have a just and proper war in which to prove yourself,” Mr. Rocastle says with a stern look. “Now, resume firing.”

 

As Hutchinson starts back up Latimer hears the whine of a foreign object and suddenly finds himself standing,  _ soldiers all around him running in the front lines of return fire. _

 

_ “Mind the wire!” A voice calls out. “Keep your head down!” _

 

_ Latimer is helping a soldier back to the safety of the trenches behind them and he checks the time. _

 

_ “One minute past the hour. It’s now, Hutchinson, this is the time. It’s now,” he hears himself saying. Something screams as it comes towards him. _

 

He comes out of the trance as the machine gun next to him stops firing.

 

“Stoppage,” Hutchinson says. “Immediate action. Didn’t I tell you, sir? This stupid boy is useless. Permission to give Latimer a beating, sir,” Hutchinson addresses the Headmaster.

 

“Permission granted,” Mr. Rocastle grants after looking Latimer up and down.

 

“Right. Come with me, you little oik,” Hutchinson says cheerily grabbing Latimer by the scruff and leading him away, the rest of the class following suite.

 

\--

 

“Are you okay, Joan?” Rose asks softly as they walk into town. Under the guise of helping Joan pick out at dress for the dance, Rose was going to look for signs of the aliens, and hopefully find their ship. Martha told her something landed in the field near town and she wanted to check it out, but with Joan next to her, she doesn’t know if she can slip away for that long.

 

“Yes, I was just thinking about the day my husband was shot,” Joan tells her, glaring at the firing range. Rose didn’t blame her, she didn’t like the place herself. And even less so when she saw a murderous gleam in one of the boys’ eyes. “I told you his name was Oliver,” she reminds. “He died in the battle of Spion Cop. We were childhood sweethearts. But, you see, I was angry with the army for such a long time.”

 

“And you still are,” Rose says, getting where she’s coming from.

 

“I find myself as part of that school, watching boys learn how to kill,” Joan says shaking her head as if wondering how she allowed this to happen.

 

“Don’t you think the discipline good for them?” Rose asks knowing that they’ll need all this time to prepare and survive what is to come. It was a necessary evil, though she hated that boys as young as Latimer were receiving such harsh lessons.

 

“Does it have to be such a military discipline?” she asks. “I mean, if there’s another war, those boys won’t find it so amusing.”

 

“Well,” Rose says swallowing past the lump in her throat. “We got ‘til next year to find out.” She clenches her fists just thinking about it. All those boys in that school, and only the lucky few would survive.

 

They’re walking down the street when she sees two movers struggling in their task, as the rope holding the piano they were moving onto the first storey frays. A woman pushing a pram rounds the corner and walks unknowingly towards the slipping piano.

 

Rose dashes across the road and forcefully pushes the lady and her pram out of the piano’s way just as it crashes to the ground, knocking one of the suspended movers into the wall.

 

“Are you okay?” Rose asks the mother, who is coming out of her shock and moves to soothe her crying baby, looking a little hysterical herself as she rocks the pram.

 

“How’s the little one?” the worker on the rope asks, looking worried.

 

“He’s fine,” she calls up to him. “Are you okay? That was quite a nasty slam.”

 

The worker just waves her concern away. “Fit as a fiddle, me.”

 

“Miss?” Rose asks the mother. “Are you oka-” she cuts off as the lady pulls her in for a firm hug.

 

“Thank you,” she whispers and Rose smiles gently.

 

“You’re welcome,” Rose tells her, shaking the little boys leg and making him laugh as the lady puts him back in the pram. When the mother leaves, eyes darting upwards every so often, Rose goes back over to where Joan is looking at her weirdly.

 

“You just-” She starts and Rose shrugs.

 

“Lucky.”

 

“That was luck?” Joan whispers to herself. “You extraordinary woman.”

 

\--

 

“It looks fine, Joan,” Rose says smiling at the woman who was nervously smoothing out the invisible wrinkles in the dress.

 

“Are you sure?” Joan asks looking herself over in the full length mirror that Rose’s room held.

 

“Absolutely, you look beautiful,” Rose tells her with a wide smile. After the piano incident, they had went to purchase two dresses each at the local fabric shop. Rose had kept her eyes peeled for anything alien, but no one had stood out as odd. So, here she was, in an itchy sunflower yellow dress in pretense that her and Joan would go to the dance tonight. She felt kind of bad for going along with the charade, but she couldn’t think of a good enough excuse to cancel now.

 

“Oh, widows aren’t supposed to be beautiful,” Joan dismisses. “I think the world would rather we stopped. Is that fair? That we stop?” Her face looked rather serious, eyes searching Rose’s face for answers.

 

“I don’t think so,” Rose says honestly. “But I think that us widows do, believing that love will never come again. It’s rather scary putting yourself out there like that again.” Rose comes up and fixes Joan’s hair as she talks.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Joan asks suddenly, her eyes still searching.

 

“Joan?”

 

“Can I ask you something?” She asks again, her face turning serious again, with a hint of something Rose couldn’t describe. Maybe longing, or a wanting to be understood.

 

“Yes,” Rose says with a smile, stepping back to look at her more clearly, only for Joan to lean forward, opening her mouth to say something. Only, the door opens and Martha steps in unannounced. 

 

“Martha?” Rose asks.

 

“Sorry, ma’am,” Martha says slowly, trying to wipe her shock off her face. “It’s not important.” After she says this, she quickly shuts the door and Rose can hear her footsteps running from the room.

 

“I wonder what that was about,” Joan wonders, smoothing down her dress again, stepping away from Rose, her eyes cast downwards, the odd look on her face gone.

 

\--

 

Tim was walking in a field, his head cocked to the side as he listened to the faint whisper calling his name. He first thought it was Mrs. Smith’s ring again, but then the whispers led him away from the school and out to the old barn near Mr. Clark’s farm.

 

He spots a bicycle leaned against one of the sides and slows his approach, slipping around the other side of the barn, rounding the corner just in time to hear the barn door creak open. He turns around and peeks over the edge to see one of the maids from the school exit. Martha Jones, if he wasn’t mistaken. The only other person Baines and Hutchinson loved to bully more than him.

 

She was struggling with her apron and something in it, spewing inappropriate cuss words for a lady to say. He was surprised she even knew half of them, because he hadn’t heard of them either. It must be a London thing.

 

“Bloody 1913,” she mutters under her breath before roughly grabbing her bicycle and riding off back towards the school. Tim feels like he should follow her, but the whispering starts up again and he’s more curious than scared.

 

He opens the barn door a crack and sneaks in, stopping in place to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim.

 

In the corner sits a strange blue box that was calling to him. He slowly made his way over, taking in every detail of the box. Walking across the field to get here seemed less daunting than crossing the barn to reach the blue box. He hesitantly reached out a hand to touch the wooden door and was met with a mingle of voices whispering to him. Just under the voices was a song, the melody indescribable, it drew him in closer.

 

_ “You’re clever. Be proud of it. Use it.” _

 

_ “Bad Wolf, hide yourself.” _

 

_ “The secret lies within. I’m trapped.” _

 

_ “In the dark, waiting. Always waiting.” _

 

_ “Power of a TARDIS.” _

 

He pulls his hand back, but not before seeing another vision of Mrs. Smith bathed in gold, golden tears crawling down her face, and in her hand the Universe. The image drew his breath away and filled him with a sense of warmth and awe.

 

He blinks and he hears the song again, but it’s harsher this time. Scolding and warning at the same time. Tim gulps in air before running back to the barn door, tripping over his own feet as he refuses to turn his back on the box. The TARDIS.

 

As he runs back to the school, the TARDIS’s voices echo in his head.

 

_ “You are not alone. Keep Her hidden.” _

 

_ “Darkness is coming.” _

 

_ “Keep Her away from the false and empty man.” _

 

_ “Infinite fire. Burn with light. Burn in time.” _

 

_ He’s being chased by a metallic being with a whisk and a plunger for arms, it turns into a metal man with a halo, and then he’s being greeted by an odd looking man with an octopus on his face. The odd man turns into a Werewolf from fiction, who turns into a giant spider that slashes one of its claws at him. As he ducks, the spider is replaced with an old man who is not an old man. The Not Old Old Man turns into another man with his face inside out, to where his skull is showing. _

 

Latimer clamps his eyes shut and slaps his hands to his ears to blot the images out, but he’s still running and trips over a rock. At least the visions of horrors have stopped.

 

He doesn't think of how the song is still there, playing softly in the back of his mind. It curls around his mind, warm and gentle like a mother.

 

\--

 

Baines takes a giant sniff of the air, but the scent is too faint to be the one they are after.

 

\--

 

Jenny is riding her bicycle down the dirt road when a scarecrow steps out in front of her nearly making her crash.

 

“Who’s that playing silly beggars?” She asks harshly. “Nearly broke me neck. Who’s that then? Is it you, Saul?” She turns as she hears people coming up behind her and sees even more scarecrows and screams as they come upon her.

 

\--

 

“I don’t understand,” Jenny says as she comes to in an alien looking place. “It’s Mr. Clark, isn’t it? What have I done wrong?” she asks imploringly, tears falling down her face.

 

“Nothing at all,” Mr. Clark reassures her. “In fact, you’re just what we need, girl.”

 

“She works at the school,” Baines says and Jenny wonders if this is a cruel prank he’s playing on her. “And whatever’s happening seems to be centred round that establishment. The faintest of traces, but they all lead back there.”

 

“It’s Baines, isn’t it? This isn’t very funny, sir,” she tells him trying to channel Martha.

 

“Just shut up,” Baines tells her harshly. “Stop talking. Cease and desist, there’s a good girl! Mother of Mine is dying to meet you. And here she is,” he says holding up a green glowing ball.

 

“Stop mocking me, sir,” Jenny says with a frown.

 

“No! Mother of Mine just needs a shape,” he tells her. “We go through shapes so very fast. Yours is perfectly adequate, if a little grim. Mother of Mine, embrace her.” The green light flows from the ball and heads straight for her.


	4. Do You Have A Preference Who We Kill? If So, Speak Up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday!!!! I know usually I would be the one recieving presents, but I felt like giving today. Here ya go! Chapter 4!

Martha’s just pouring a cup of tea in her’s and Jenny’s room when Jenny comes in.

 

“There you are,” Martha greets smile on her face. “Come and look at what I’ve got. Mr. Poole didn’t want his afternoon tea, so Cook said I could have it. And there’s enough for two. What are you standing there for?” Martha asks after a few seconds of Jenny just staring at her like she’s a stranger. Jenny sniffs deeply and Martha frowns. “Are you alright?”

 

“I must have a cold coming on,” Jenny says weirly, her accent not nearly as thick as it was.

 

“Oh, here, have some tea, it’ll help.” Martha pats the bed space next to her, holding out a cup. “The problem is, I keep thinking about them, but I don’t know what to do.” She sighs.

 

“Thinking about who?” Jenny asks not even taking her teacup, but Martha doesn’t really think about it, too occupied by both Rose and Joan and those aliens on the loose somewhere in town.

 

Martha tries to think of way to phrase it, but then dismisses the thought of discussing sexuality and aliens with a woman from 1913.

 

“Nevermind that,” she says instead. “I was just thinking aloud. Onto good news.” Martha takes a sip and bounces slightly on her decidedly non-bouncy bed. “We’re going to be leaving soon!” Maybe she was getting ahead of herself, they hadn’t even found the aliens yet, but she was excited at the prospect of progress. It had been a hard month and a half and she was  _ so  _ ready to leave.

 

“Leaving to where?” Jenny asks woodenly with no inflection, leaning forward into Martha’s space.

 

“All sorts of places,” Martha says with a shrug. “I wish I could tell you, Jenny, but it’s complicated.”

 

“In what way?” Jenny asks, an odd shine to her eyes and Martha’s wondering what’s gotten into her.

 

“I just can’t,” she says shaking her head. Jenny usually backed off at that, but now she’s scooted forward, pressing into Martha.

 

“It sounds so interesting,” Jenny insists her voice not conveying how interesting she find it. “Tell me. Tell me now.”

 

“Would you like some tea?” Martha asks her suddenly, trying to figure out how to get away from this Jenny imposter, because, whoever this was, it was most certainly  _ not  _ Jenny.

 

“Yes, thanks,” Not Jenny says, not even looking at the tray to take a cup, her eyes solely focused upon Martha.

 

“I could put a nice bit of gravy in the pot,” Martha says testing, just to make sure. “And some mutton. Or sardines and jam. How about that?”

 

“I like the sound of that,” Not Jenny says, face blank, here eyes unblinking.

 

“Right, hold on a tick,” Martha says getting up as calmly as she could. As soon as the door closes with her in the hallway, though, she runs as fast as she can towards Rose’s room. They needed to get a plan together, and fast.

 

\--

 

Jenny curses as the companion leaves the room in a hurry. She was so close! She contacts her Family.

 

“I have found the Time Lord’s companion. She will lead us to the Time Lord, himself. Come to the school.”

 

“Yes, Mother of Mine,” Son of Mine responds.

 

\--

 

“They’ve found us!” Martha shouts as she bursts into Rose’s room. She leans against the doorknob to catch her breath, the door swinging a bit at her weight.

 

“This is ridiculous,” the Matron tuts, but Martha ignores her to look at where Rose is frozen in shock.

 

“They’ve found us _ here _ , at the school?” she asks, shutting the book in her hands and putting it in her pocket.

 

“Yes and they look like people, like us, like normal. They’ve got Jenny and they’ve possessed her, or copied her, or something.”

 

“This isn’t good,” Rose says before going over to her desk. “Martha, grab all the books. We’ll need to get Her started much sooner than I thought. Hopefully they’ll follow us again.”

 

The Matron, standing near the bookcase looks between then in confusion. “What is going on?” she demands.

 

“I’m sorry,” Martha says, not even the least bit sorry, “but move.” She shoves the Matron out of the way and then grabs every book in Gallifreyan and other alien languages that she can find into her apron, grateful for the upgrade to the endless pockets.

 

“Martha!” The Matron gasps out before rounding to look at Rose. “Just  _ what _ is going on?” she asks again.

 

“Right,” Rose says looking at her. “Martha, get everything ready at the TARDIS an’ we’ll meet you there soon. An’,” she pauses to look Martha in the eyes, her own shining in worry, “be careful. We know how dangerous they are, but with what you said, we haven’t a clue as to who the rest are.”

 

Martha nods, her heart pounding loud in her chest. “You be careful, too.” And with that they part ways.

 

\--

 

“Oh, sorry!” Martha says as she runs into a student in the hallway.

 

“Martha?” Tim asks as he has a sudden vision of her in different, tighter clothes.

 

“Not now, Tim. Busy!” Martha yells behind her, already down the hall, feet pounding on the wood floor.

 

\--

 

“Mrs. Smith?” Baines calls out, opening the door. “No one home,” he says seeing the disheveled, empty room.

 

“The maid was definitely hiding something,” Not Jenny says. “A secret around this Mrs. Smith.”

 

“We both scented her, though,” Baines points out. “She was plain and simple human.”

 

“Maybe she knows something,” Not Jenny guesses. “Where is she?”

 

\--

 

Tim follows behind Mrs. Smith and Matron Redfern as they walk quickly down the halls of the school towards the mess hall. He knows something is wrong from how Martha acted earlier, and so he’s going to keep a close eye on Mrs. Smith, feeling oddly protective of her.

 

\--

 

Baines and Not Jenny search the messy desk and bookshelf for a clue as to where this Mrs. Smith had gone when Mr. Clark walks in with a flyer.

 

“I think this might help,” he tells them holding the leaflet up.

 

“That makes it easy, Son of Mine,” Not Jenny says with a oddly stretched smile. “Because Daughter of Mine is already there.”

 

“We’ve been invited to the dance,” Baines says as all three make their way out of the room in sync.

 

\--

 

Martha huffs out a laboured breath, making a mental note to get in more cardio when all this was over. She looks across the field to where the barn is and curses herself for not thinking of grabbing her bike.

 

\--

 

“Evening, all,” the homeless man says to Baines, Not Jenny, and Mr. Clark. “Spare a penny, sir?”

 

“I didn’t spare you,” Baines says cruelly before pulling out a gun and vapourises the man.

 

The double doors of the village hall open loudly as Mr. Clark walks through them getting the attention of the whole dance hall.

 

“There will be silence! All of you!” He shouts as scarecrows come in behind him, followed by Baines and Not Jenny. All three have their guns drawn and pointed into the crowd. “I said silence!” Mr. Clark shouts again, shooting his gun up at the ceiling.

 

“Mr. Clark, what’s going on?” A friend of the man asks, but Mr. Clark just shoots the man with his gun, turning him to vapours.

 

“We asked for silence!” Baines shouts. “Now, then, we have a few questions for Mrs. Smith.”

 

“They’re not here,” a little girl with a red balloon says getting out of her chair and walking towards Baines.

 

“Well, where are they, then?” Baines asks her.

 

“This body has traces of memory,” Not Jenny says. “Was once her friend. Martha would go walking to the west. The Mrs. Smith was seen as well. Husband of Mine, follow the maid’s scent. Go to the west, find out what they were keeping secret.”

 

“Soldier’s!” Mr. Clark barks out, marching back out the double doors, the scarecrows on his heels.

 

“As for you, Mother of Mine, let’s go back to school,” Baines says, walking out with Not Jenny and the girl with the red balloon.

 

The crowd inside the dancehall comes back alive with a roar of clashing voices as they try to understand what happened.

 

“They’re going to the school!” One man shouts out. “We gotta warn them!” And he’s off out the back, running through the woods towards the school.

 

\--

 

Rose is walking fast down the halls of the school, Joan in hand, her sonic in the other. She’s trying to sneak out the back entrance of the school near the kitchens, but she keeps getting turned around. She thought that after a month living here, she wouldn’t get lost on the way to the mess hall, but apparently not.

 

The school bell starts ringing haphazardly as they reach the hallway where the mess hall’s double doors are.

 

“What is happening?” Joan asks, jerking in her grip, a little out of breath trying to keep up with Rose’s harried pace.

 

“Nothing good,” Rose says trying to find another way out, but the hall only has out of reach windows up high, and nothing else. It’s either go forward or backward, but by the sound of the shouting going on behind them, Rose choses to continue.

 

Rose opens the doors to see a lingering student who hadn’t heard the school bell, Jenny, and a little girl with a red balloon.

 

“We have some questions for you, Mrs. Smith,” the student, Baines she recalls, says with a wide, unnatural smile.

 

So, not a student, Jenny, and a little girl. It’s the aliens.

 

Baines, Jenny, and the little girl all tilt their heads in unison before their smiles stretch painfully across their faces.

 

“You took human form,” Baines tells her.

 

“Of course I’m human,” Rose says, her clutch on Joan tightening. “I was born human, as were all of you.” Maybe, just maybe, if they were possessed, they could fight it.

 

“Ooo, and a human brain, too,” Baines continues. “Simple, thick, and dull.” Rose scoffs at his words. Why did aliens always think they were better?

 

“But she’s no good like this,” Jenny hisses out.

 

“Easily done,” Baines says before pointing his gun at Rose, who tugs to move Joan behind her. “Change back,” he demands.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rose tells him, looking between all three.

 

“Change back!” Baines spits out. Rose shakes her head.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

 

“Change _ back _ !” he shouts again stepping forward with his gun steady on them despite losing his composure.

 

“I  _ honestly _ don’t know  _ what you’re talking about _ !” Rose shouts back. Jenny suddenly reaches out and grabs Joan by the arm, dragging her back and breaking the grip Rose had on her, pressing her gun to Joan’s temple.

 

“Get off me!” Joan says, struggling to get out of Jenny’s arms.

 

“She’s your  _ special  _ friend, isn’t she?” Jenny taunts and Rose growls at the woman. “Doesn’t this scare you enough to change back?”

 

“I don’t know what you mean!” Rose yells loudly, tears in her eyes as she looks at how afraid Joan is.

 

“Wait a minute,” Jenny tells her eyes on the back kitchen doors. “We have a surprise for you.”

 

A second later, Martha stiffly walks in, a man behind her, holding a gun aimed at her back. Rose curses again, feeling the pressure mounting.

 

“Over there, girl,” the man barks out, shoving the muzzle of the gun into Martha’s spine, pushing her towards Jenny and the little girl.

 

“She’s no good like this,” Jenny says with a small stamp of her feet.

 

“We need a Time Lady,” the man says moving his gun so it’s also pressed into Martha’s temple. Rose’s blood runs cold. They thought she was a Time Lord? Why? How? Was it because of the TARDIS? But, no, if they have Martha, then surely they had also found the TARDIS. So, what did they want?”

 

“What do you want?”She cries out, her frustration getting the better of her.

  
“Have you enjoyed it, Time Lady, being  _ human _ ? Has it taught you wonderful things? Are you better, richer, wiser? Then let’s see you answer this,” Baines taunts. “Which one of them do you want us to kill? Maid or Matron? Your friend or your lover? Your choice?”


	5. Somebody Get That Chair A Medal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo! Have a chapter!  
> Also, I am tired and wish I could get these chapters cranked out for you, but my brains like, you know where the plot is going and therefore cannot get it down in writing. So, that's where I'm at right now. Hopefully your week has been better!

“Make your decision, Mrs. Smith,” Jenny says with a smile.

 

“Perhaps,” Baines suggests with a cruel, gleeful gleam to his eyes, “if that human heart breaks, the Time Lady will emerge.” Mr. Clark pushes his gun further into Martha’s temple.

 

“I’m not a  _ Time Lord _ !” Rose shouts just as a chair goes flying at Baines. It lands pathetically short of where he’s stood, but it does the job of distracting the aliens.

 

It gives Martha enough time to elbow Mr. Clark in the gut, spin him around until it was her who pressed the gun into  _ his _ temple all within the span of a couple of seconds. Martha’s grateful that Rose had showed her some tricks for if she had ever gotten kidnapped again. Not that she was hoping to ever use them.

 

“Alright! One more move and I shoot!” She warns, staring straight into Baines’ cold, dead eyes.

 

“Oh, the maid is full of fire,” Baines laughs out, not even looking put out with how his comrade is placed.

 

“And you can  _ shut up _ !” Martha shouts at him aiming the gun down at his feet and firing once before bringing it back up to Non-Clark’s temple before he could get any ideas to pull a move like she did.

 

“Careful Son of Mine,” Non-Clark cautions. “This is all for you, so that you can live forever.”

 

“Shoot you down,” Baines says, gun aimed at Martha in mock fire, as if he hadn’t heard his father speak.

 

“Try it,” Martha eggs him on, from the corner of her eye she can see Rose subtly get closer to where Baines and Not Jenny are stood. “Me and Pops will die together.”

 

“Would you really pull the trigger? Looks too scared,” Baines taunts, a smile breaking across his face and Martha has to hold back a shiver at the look of it.

 

“Scared and holding a gun’s a good combination,” Martha tells him. “Do you want to risk it?” She almost relaxes when they lower their guns, but for the fact that they still had them in their hands.

 

Joan runs over to Rose, who directs her away before she leaps at Not Jenny and Baines, smacking Not Jenny’s gun away, but Baines gets away. Immediately, Rose holds the gun in her hands at Not Jenny.

 

“Make another move and I’ll end your Mother, right here, right now,” Rose tells him, voice cold and harsh.

 

Baines’ smile widens at her threat. “So it seems some of that Time Lady brain remains.”

 

“I  _ told _ you, ‘m  _ not _ a Time Lord!” Rose shouts.

 

“Let me  _ go _ !” a young voice screams out and Rose curses as she remembers the forgotten little girl with the red balloon. Her concentration slips and suddenly she’s fighting Not Jenny over the gun, elbowing the alien in the gut before running away, picking up a chair of her own and pivoting so that it hits Not Jenny straight in the chest. The impact makes her crash to the ground and her gun goes skidding across the floor under a far table.

 

Rose leaves it alone for now, grabbing Joan’s hand and making sure Martha’s with them before she pulls them behind her, running out the mess hall just as scarecrows burst in the double doors Non-Clark lead Martha through.

 

“Now what?” Martha shouts as they run down the long hallway. Rose stops in her tracks, grabs the gun Martha had miraculously held onto in all the commotion, and points it at the wall. A small section vapourises and Rose hands her back the gun as they climb through it.

 

“Time Lady!” Baines’ voice sing-songs after them, and they turn to see him peering through the hole in the wall. Martha pulls the gun up, aiming it straight at Baines.

 

“Don’t try anything,” she tells them, trying to keep her voice from wavering. “I’m warning you, or Sonny boy gets it.”

 

“She’s almost brave, this one,” Baines tells his Family, earning an amused chuckle from Non-Clark.

 

“I should have taken her form,” Not Jenny says, looking Martha up and down in appreciation, her hair is in disarray, a cut from her forehead bleeding freely. It’s like a chair to the face didn’t agree with her. “Much more fun. So much spirit.” Martha’s breath hitches, Rose’s hand coming up to settle between her shoulder blades. A welcomed warm weight and a reminder she’s not alone.

 

“What happened to Jenny? Is she gone? Are they all gone?” Martha asks, eyes darting over all of them before settling wistfully on Not Jenny’s face.

 

“She is consumed,” Not Jenny tells her. “Her body’s mine.”

 

“You mean she’s dead,” Martha inferred, her throat tightening at the news. She hears a gasp, possibly from the Matron at the news.

 

“Yes, and she went with precious little dignity. All that screaming,” Not Jenny says with a wide smile, as if she enjoyed the show Jenny gave her as she died.

 

“You bitch!” Martha shouts, moving her gun and firing at Not Jenny. The alien barely avoids the shot, but it doesn’t matter, because a second later, a student runs screaming into her, the chair in his hand ramming into her side and shoving her into Baines and Non-Clark, making them all fall down.

 

“Tim!” Rose shouts holding her hand out for him as he climbs through the hole, pulling him to her in a brief hug before pushing him towards the entrance of the school. “Time to run!” she shouts as she sees scarecrows coming out of the woods towards them.

 

\--

 

“Run!” Baines says with a smile as he looks at them through the hole. “Ah, this is super. We’ve been in hiding for too long. This is sport.”

 

“I can smell the woman,” Not Jenny says holding a hand to her side. “She’s still at the school.” She sounds out of breath and her hair is even more disheveled than before, but Baines doesn’t seem to realise this.

 

\--

 

Rose hears the school bell sound, a man shouting for the students to take arms, and more shouting as they draw closer to the front of the school. Panic stirs up as the students and teachers talk at the same time, wondering what’s happening, who’s out there.

 

“They’re only making this worse,” she growls out.

 

\--

 

“They’re sounding the alarms,” Baines notices with glee.

 

“I wouldn’t be so pleased, Son of Mine,” Not Jenny tells him, wiping some of the dripping blood off her forehead. “These bodies are silly and hot. They can damage and die. That’s why we need the Time Lady.”

 

“Indeed,” Baines agrees, nose crinkling as he finally takes in the state of Mother Mine. “They will have guns, and  _ chairs _ . Perhaps a little caution. Sister of Mine, you’re such a small little thing. Find a way to spy on them.” Baines ignores Not Jenny’s glare at his chair crack, but a satisfied smile makes its way onto his face. Things were coming together and a Hunt was to be put on.

 

Lucy bobs her head, the string on the now popped red balloon still in hand. As she skips off down the hallway, the tattered remains drag behind her.

 

\--

 

“What in thunder’s name is this?” Mr. Rocastle asks as he round the corner to find Mrs. Smith, Matron Redfern, that Jones maid, and the Latimer boy arguing with Mr. Johnson, who is still ringing the school bell. “For God’s sakes, man, desist at once!” he shouts at Mr. Johnson. The room goes quiet. “Now, before I devise an excellent and endless series of punishments for each and every one of you, could someone explain very simply and immediately, exactly what is going on?” He looks between them all.

 

“Headmaster, I have to report the school is under attack,” Mr. Johnson tells him, wringing his hands.

 

“Really? Is that so? Perhaps you and I should have a word in private,” Mr. Rocastle suggests, gesturing towards his office.

 

“No, I promise you, sir,” Mr. Johnson continues. “I was in the village, at the dance. It’s Baines, sir. Jeremy Baines, and Mr. Clark from Oakham Farm. They’ve gone mad, sir. They’ve got guns. They’ve already murdered people in the village, I saw it happen.”

 

Mr. Rocastle looks taken aback, looking to the four of them. “Is this true?” he asks them.

 

“I’m afraid we weren’t yet at the dance, sir, but yes. Mr. Johnson is correct,” the Matron tells him with a nod, a look of fear clear across her face.

 

“Murder? On our own soil?”

 

“I saw it, yes,” Mr. Johnson says, swallowing thickly in remembrance.

 

“Perhaps you did well then, Mr. Johnson. What makes you think the danger’s coming here?”

 

“Baines threatened Mrs. Smith, sir. Said he was looking for her. I don’t know why,” Mr. Johnson reports, cutting a quick up and down look at Rose before facing the Headmaster. Mr. Rocastle does his own assessment as well, trying to see just what about her would make a student driven to murder.

 

“Very well. You boys,” he addresses the students running about in panic. “Remain on guard. Mr. Snell, telephone for the police! Mr. Phillips, with me. We shall investigate.”

 

“No! But it’s not safe!” Martha shouts. Mr. Rocastle gives her a dismissive glare.

 

“Mrs. Smith, it seems your favourite servant is giving me advice. You will control her, ma’am.”

 

“She’s right, you know,” Rose tells him with a glare of her own. “It’s not safe out there. Not for those boys, not for anyone. You send ‘em out there, they’ll die.” Her words don’t deter the men in any way, though. Mr. Rocastle and the others leave to follow out their orders, leaving the three women alone, as the Headmaster dragged Tim along to follow after the students.

 

_ “Keep Her safe. Keep Her close.” _ Mrs. Smith’s ring whispers to him as he’s dragged away.  _ “The Time is not right. Not yet. Not while the Family is abroad. Danger!” _ The pulse of the words beat in time to the felt heartbeat in his arm as Mr. Rocastles clutch on his arm tightens almost unbearably so.

 

\--

 

“So,” Mr. Rocastle says as him and Mr. Phillips make their way towards the school courtyard where Baines is waiting to speak to them. “Baines and one of the cleaning staff? There’s always a woman involved. Am I to gather that some practical joke has got out of hand?” They reach the boy before Mr. Phillips can reply.

 

“Headmaster, sir,” Baines greets with a wide, unnatural smile. “Good evening, sir. Come to give me a caning, sir? Would you like that, sir?”

 

“Keep a civil tongue, boy,” Mr. Rocastle scolds, though he is unnerved at the sudden change in personality. Unless Baines has always been this unhinged and cruel.

 

“Now come on, everyone,” Mr. Phillips says to try and mediate between the two. “I suspect alcohol has played its part in this. Let’s all just calm down-” The scarecrows walking up to stand behind Baines has him stop talking, almost has him stop breathing, too. “A-and who are these…  _ friends _ of yours, Baines? In fancy dress?”

 

“Do you like them, Mr. Phillips?” Baines asks grinning at the mans unease. “I made them myself. I’m ever so good at science, sir. Look,” he says, pulling the arm off the nearest one. Mr. Rocastle and Mr. Phillips look on in horror. This was not a practical joke, nor had alcohol played its part. Perhaps the Devil had, going by the evil grin on the boys face. “Molecular fringe animation fashioned in the shape of straw men,” Baines continues, reveling in their shocked faces. “My own private army, sir. It’s ever so good, sir.”

 

“Baines,” Mr. Rocastle says after he gathers himself- he can’t quite keep himself from darting his eyes between the boy, the straw arm, and the scarecrow stood patiently at the boys side. “Step apart from this company and come inside with me.”

 

“No, sir,” Baines tells him. “You, sir, you will send us Mrs. Rose Smith. That’s all we want, sir, Mrs. Rose Smith and whatever she’s done with her Time Lady consciousness. Then we’d be very happy to leave you alone.”

 

“You speak with someone else’s voice, Baines. Who might that be?”

 

“We are the Family of Blood,” Baines shares delightedly.

 

“Mr. Johnson said there had been deaths,” Mr. Rocastle asks him, a resigned undertone to his question. Baines was truly lost then.

 

“Yes, sir. And they were good, sir.”

 

“Well, I warn you, the school is armed,” He says to whatever stood in front of him, for it certainly was no longer his student.

 

“All you little tin soldiers,” Baines sneers. “But, tell me, sir, will they thank you?”

 

“I don’t understand,” Mr. Rocastles says with a frown. They were getting off topic.

 

“What do you know of history, sir? What do you know of next year?”

 

“You’re not making sense, Baines.”

 

“1914, sir,” Baines clarifies. “Because the Family has travelled far and wide looking for Mrs. Smith and, oh, the things we have seen. War is coming. In foreign fields, war of the whole wide world, with all your boys falling down in the mud. So you think they will thank the man who taught them it was glorious?” Mr. Rocastle pales visibly, his mouth opening and closing several times before he straightens his spine.

 

“Don’t you forget, boy, I’ve been a soldier. I was in South Africa. I used my dead mates for sandbags. I fought with the butt of my rifle when the bullets ran out, and I would go back there tomorrow for King and Country!” He was red in the face with his outburst, his cheeks puffing out with every exhale, yet Baines looked unaffected.

 

“Et cetera, et cetera,” Baines sighs out taking out his gun and aiming it at Mr. Phillips. 

 

“No!” Rose shouts popping up in front of the two men, her sonic screwdriver aimed at Baines’ gun, disabling it before he could kill Mr. Phillips.

 

“Ah, Mrs. Smith, so good of you to join us! Come to turn yourself over?” Baines asks with a wide unnerving smile.

 

“You wish,” Rose tells him. “Martha!” She calls out and a blast of green light hits the scarecrow next to Baines, vanishing it before their eyes. “Now then, without your big bad bodyguard to protect you, lets see how tough you are.” She takes a step forward, her eyes hard as she glares at him.

 

Baines takes a step back, gun hanging useless in his hand. He sees a flash of gold in her eyes and stops to wonder what exactly they were Hunting.

 

“What are you?” He whispers in awe at the raw power she holds within her.

 

“I’m the Bad Wolf,” Mrs. Smith tells him and he swallows thickly at the edge in her voice. “And you are now my prey.”

 

Baines can hear more scarecrows coming up behind him and squares himself.

 

“We’ll see about that,” he tells her with a smirk he can’t quite make himself feel. She unnerved him, but he wasn’t going to give up this prize, for he now knew she was worth ten Time Lords. “May the best one win.” And with that he steps behind the scarecrows and makes a run for it as they fight.

  
  


\--

 

“Mr. Phillips has just been murdered, Mrs. Smith. Can you tell me whatever for?” Mr. Rocastle demands angrily as he dabs at his forehead, his face red from running all the way back to the safety of the school.

 

“Oh, so now you wanna listen to me,” Rose sighs slightly winded herself. She’s upset at herself for not being able to save Mr. Phillips a second time, but the additional scarecrows had surprised her and she and Martha had soon been overpowered.

 

“Listen here, woman,” he tells her, drawing himself up to his full height, but Rose was having a hard time taking him seriously when he was still tomato red. “If we have to make a fight of it, then make a fight of it we shall.” He turns to the students in the hall. “Hutchinson, we’ll barricade within the courtyards. Fortify the entrances, build up our defences. Gentlemen, in the name of the King, we shall stand against them.”

 

“Yes, sir!” the students shout, squaring their shoulders to stand at attention. Rose couldn’t help but look at their shoulders and think them too soft, too slight. None of the children here were soldiers, yet here they were, pretending.

 

“Right, come on. Let’s get moving,” one of the boys commands urging the others on.

 

“You’re going to get those boys killed,” Rose hisses at Mr. Rocastle so the passing boys wouldn’t hear her comment. “Just like Mr. Phillips.”

 

He flinches, but doesn’t move his gaze away from overseeing the students’ preparation.

 

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he tells her softly. “You women know nothing of war, but it must be done. This school will still be standing in the morning.” Either way, whatever Baines had become will end. He’ll make sure of it.

 

“But will those boys be?” Rose snaps back before swiftly turning on her heel and stomping away. Her servent continues to glare at him, her arms clenched in fists at her side. He’s having a hard time holding his own in the face of her saving his life, but despite that one small scuffle, she couldn’t know war, of this he was certain.

 

“We see more war than you think,” she tells him as if hearing his thoughts, a grit to her teeth. “Get your head out of your ass and maybe you’ll see more clearly.” She, too, stomps away before she could see the twin looks of shock on his and the Matrons face.

 

\--

 

“They’ve got an army,” Baines says with a smile, a light chuckle escaping from his mouth at the thought of war. “So do we. Soldiers. Soldiers!” As he shouts, more scarecrows raise their heads and make their way towards the school.

 

\--

 

“Ashington, we need water for the Vickers gun. See to it,” the Headmaster says to the boy. “Faster. All of you, faster!”

 

“Lockley, when firing commences, you’re in charge of the gallery,” another teacher says.

 

“Peterson, that is not acceptable,” the Headmaster states, referring to a student’s way of carrying his gun. “Report to your senior officer.”

 

\--

 

“War comes to England a year in advance,” Baines says with obvious joy.


	6. It's Okay, He Was An OC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick question: who has put up with more than her fair share of alien BS? Answer: Martha Jones.
> 
> Follow up question: who has also put up with the rude time period of 1913? Answer: Martha Jones.
> 
> Last question: who wants to go home but can't yet? Answer: Yes, once again. Martha Jones.
> 
> She needs a long spa day.

Lucy, inside the school, contacts her Family.

 

“Family of Mine, wait. Hold the soldiers back. The Bad Wolf is playing some sort of trick,” she tells them, trying to sniff Mrs. Smith out.

 

“Discover her, Sister of Mine,” Baines commands as he plays a trick of his own.

 

\--

 

Rose, Martha, and the lagging behind Joan make their way to Rose’s room as quickly as possible while trying not to be spotted by anyone. Despite this, Martha and Rose hiss little arguments at each other the whole way there about what to do and how to do it, Joan too far behind to get a word in edgewise.

 

When they finally enter Rose’s room, with Rose locking it behind them, Joan finally has the time to catch her breath while also trying to get a handle on what had transpired in so few short hours.

 

“Stop,” she says to the arguing pair, but it goes ignored. “I said stop!” She shouts, her hands slapping against the desk, suddenly too overwhelmed by the noise, the deaths, the questions. “For goodness sake, just stop.” She slumps down into a nearby chair, hand to head, as if that would help alleviate her rising headache.

 

“I know it sounds mad,” Martha starts to say, but stops when Joan raises her free hand.

 

Joan draws in a breath of air before looking up at Rose. “Who are you?”

 

Rose and Martha share a look before joining Joan in sitting down. This was a difficult conversation to have with no time pressures, but this situation was going to be worse.

 

“I’m Rose Prentice,” Rose says slowly. “I- We were only here ‘cos our ship broke down. We were plannin’ to leave when I fixed it up.”

 

“My name’s really Martha Jones, though,” Martha adds, though she knows the Matron couldn’t care less about her.

 

“And who are  _ they _ ?” Joan asks, pointing towards the window.

 

“We only know they’re a family of aliens hunting me for some reason,” Rose tells her with a slight shrug. She didn’t have time to delve into the Bad Wolf angle she was thinking about, Joan and Martha don’t know the meaning of those two words and it would take too long to explain, not that she wanted to.

 

“And-” Joan takes in another gulp of air to steady herself. “And  _ alien  _ means not from abroad I take it.”

 

“The people you think you know, they’ve been killed and replaced by aliens, aliens from another world,” Martha says, forgetting that the Matron had been there when Not Jenny had cheerfully shared this information and Martha came to the conclusion.

 

“A different species,” Joan whispers, and odd look in her eyes as she stares at Rose. “Then tell me, in this… story, who are you?”

 

Rose flounders for a second before getting this sad look in her eyes. “‘M just me,” she tells Joan.

 

“We’re friends,” Martha supplies sitting at the edge of her seat, ready for this conversation to be over and to get to the action already. The faster this went the faster she’d get out of 1913. “We didn’t mean for any of this to happen when we crashed.”

 

“And human, I take it?” Joan asks, eyeing them both.

 

“Human, don’t worry,” Rose says quickly, taking Joans hand and smiling softly at her.

 

“You’re hurt,” Martha notes, looking at Rose’s right arm to find scrapes and a couple of bruises. “Here, let me take a look.” She leans forward to grab Rose’s hand when the Matron scoffs.

 

“I hardly think a  _ maid _ has the capability to tend to cuts. I’m the Nurse, I’ll do it.”

 

“I’m training to be a doctor,” Marta spits at her fed up with her slights and full on glaring at the woman. “Not an  _ alien _ doctor, a proper doctor. A doctor of medicine. If I ever get back.” She cuts Rose a look before returning her glare to the Matron.

 

“It’s fine, Martha. It’s just a few scr-”

 

“Well, that certainly is nonsense,” The Matron interrupts. “Women might train to be doctor, but hardly a skivvy, and hardly one of your colour.”

 

“Oh,  _ do you think? _ ” Martha asks her harshly ignoring Rose’s attempt to chime in. She really  _ really _ hates the past. “Bones of the hand,” she holds up her own to point to where they are as she says them, “Carpal bones, proximal row. Scaphoid, lunate, triquetral, pisiform. Dostal row. Trapezium, trapezoid, capitate, hamate. Then the metacarpal bones extending in three distinct phalanges. Proximal, middle, distal.”

 

“You read that in a book,” Joan dismisses.

 

“Yes, to pass my exams,” Martha snarks crossing her arms, gaze flickering briefly to Rose’s understanding smile before turning back to the Matron. “Can’t you see this is true?”

 

“I must go,” Joan says suddenly, face pale as she stands. “I- I have to-”

 

“If we can get to our ship, we can stop them,” Rose tells her, had reaching out to stop Joan from leaving.

 

“Those boys are going to fight,” Joan says with a shake of her head. “I might not be a  _ doctor, _ but I’m still their Nurse. They need me.” Martha rolls her eyes at the slight, but doesn’t talk back.

 

“Yes, but they won’t have to need you if I can get to my ship,” Rose argues. “An’ if you out there now, they might take you hostage again.” Joan’s shoulders slump at that.

 

“So what would you have me do?” Rose takes a second to think. She knows they can’t leave this room the regular way if they were to avoid the aliens, especially that little one with the red balloon, she’d be a good person to have sneak into the school.

 

“We gotta find out where they took the TARDIS,” Rose thinks aloud, getting up to pace.

 

“Well, we can’t exactly waltz around the school,” Martha points out, close to what Rose had just thought.

 

“I suppose,” Rose trails off as she sees her sheets knotted up from where she hadn’t made them this morning, an idea coming to her. Martha sees the gleam of an idea hitting Rose and sighs.

 

“Am I gonna hate this?” Martha asks already knowing the answer.

 

“Depends.”

 

_ “On?” _

 

“You scared of heights?” Martha gives Rose a look before catching on to what Rose was thinking, their eyes flickering to the window and then back to each other.

 

“No, but I’m going to hate this anyways.” Martha sighs again.

 

“What’s going on?” Joan asks, lost as to what they were talking about. This was a side to Rose she had yet to see, the drop of her accent, the familiar way in which she talked to Martha. It made something boil within her to see the two acting as such, something which she didn’t want to examine too closely, especially right now.

 

“We’re gonna leg it out the window,” Rose tells her thumbing at the window behind her as she walks over to her bed. Joan watches in shock as she takes her sheets and, with expertise, knots them together.

 

Martha goes over to the window and yanks the glass up, leaning over the ledge to see how far down the ground was.

 

“Blimey, that’s far,” she mutters to herself.

 

“Nah, what about Old New York?” Rose asks as she comes over with the bundle of knotted sheets.

 

“Well, yeah, but  _ I _ didn’t have to climb that,” Martha replies, Rose sticking her tongue out in response.

 

‘I’m sorry, we’re going to  _ what?” _ Joan asks, staring at the two like she had never seen them before.

 

“No time for panic,” Rose tells her tossing the sheets out the window. “Uhm, what to tie this to?” She asks holding one of the ends in her hands.

 

“Here, let’s push the desk over,” Martha says and Rose gives the sheet to Joan to help Martha do just that.

 

“Brilliant,” Rose remarks as they get the desk where they want it. Rose tips the desk back and Martha sets the sheet on the floor.

 

“Whoa, what kind of workout routine do you have?” Martha asks as she sees Rose gently set the desk down.

 

Rose ignores her as she looks out the window to see if the sheets would make it. “Just barely long enough,” she remarks before moving to let Martha by. “Right then, down you get.”

 

“You are so paying for this,” Martha tells her as she hooks a leg out the window sill. Rose helps ease her down until she’s sure Martha has a secure enough hold on the sheets and watches as she slowly walks down the side of the school.

 

“Good Heavens,” Joan exclaims as she sees Martha disappear out the window.

 

“You’re next,” Rose says guiding her to the window. “Here, grab it like this and walk yourself down. You can go slow if you want, but you have to go.” Rose mimes tucking the sheets behind her lower back before helping Joan over the ledge.

 

“I really don’t see why we can’t-” Joan starts, but Rose’s look stops her. “This has turned into a fine evening,” she sighs out.

 

“Not quite what I had planned,” Rose says with a slight wince, thinking of how she was going to ditch Joan and search for the aliens with Martha.

 

“Yeah?” Joan asks her, her face going soft with the thought.

 

“Yeah,” Rose agrees, slowly letting go to see if Joan had it, not adding that she wasn’t talking about the dance.

 

It takes a couple of minutes, but Joan finally reaches the ground, Martha helping her with the landing. Rose takes her skirts and knots them up away from her legs before climbing out her window and sliding down the sheets.

 

She hits the ground in a crouch, her palms barely stinging from how fast she slid.

 

“So, what now?” Martha asks as Rose unknots her skirts.

 

“Now?” Rose asks back. “Now we improvise.” She takes their hands and leads them into the nearby trees for cover.

 

\--

 

“What do I do? What do I do?” Tim asks aloud pacing a small section of a random school hallway. He didn’t want to fight, has to run away as soon as most of the students were too busy with preparations to pay attention to him. Not that they minded him much anyways.

 

_ “Beware,” _ the TARDIS whispers to him, making him freeze in place.

 

“Beware of what?” He whispers back.

 

**_“Her.”_ **

 

He looks over to see Lucy, the alien he tackled after he threw a chair at her brother. She’s still holding the remains of her popped balloon, head tilted so her nose was in the air. He gulps as her eyes find him, anger lining her face.

 

_ “You,”  _ she hisses out, stalking towards him.

 

“Keep away,” he tells her backing away without taking his eyes off her.

  
“What are you hiding?” she asks him, eyes narrowed as she progresses further.

 

“No- Nothing!”

 

“Tell me,” she demands, trying to deepen her voice to sound more threatening.

 

“I’m not hiding anything!” He shouts holding his hands up to show her.

 

“Show me your secret,  _ little boy _ ,” she hisses out and Tim has a brief flash of the  _ real  _ Lucy, her smiling face blacking out the aliens scrunched up one, before it fades away and all he’s left with is this twisted empty shell of hers.

 

“I reckon whatever you are,” he tells it, straightening his spine for the first time in his life. “You’re still in the shape of a girl. How strong is she, do you think?” He takes a step forward, trying to scare her, raising his fist as if to hit her. Only, instead of his normal hand, something golden glows out of it, and Lucy freezes for a second as she takes in the light.

 

Another second later, she’s off running down the hall and Tim is looking down at his hand in confusion. It had returned to it’s normal, non- glowing self, but he recalls he touched the TARDIS with this hand, and wonders if She did this to him.

 

_ “Protect,” _ the TARDIS whispers, though, if it’s talking about him or Mrs. Smith, he does not know.

 

\--

 

“Time Lord,” Baines says, his head whipping upwards to take in that blessed smell.

 

“It was the schoolboy,” Not Jenny says, nostrils flaring out.

 

“A Bad Wolf  _ and _ a Time Lord all at once,” Baines says clapping his hands together in glee. “What are we waiting for? Attack!” He commands his soldiers, pointing towards the school.

 

\--

 

“Stand to!” Mr, Rocastle shouts as the scarecrow soldiers hammer against the school’s main gate. “At post!” At his command, the students take aim, some rifles shaking slightly.

 

“Enemy approaching, sir,” a student informs him, his voice quivering.

 

“Steady,” Mr. Rocastle tells them, meaning it in more ways than one. “Find the biting point.” He waits until the scarecrows have broken though the gate to tell them to, “Fire!”

 

The air crackles with the sound of gunfire as scarecrow after scarecrow fall down from being hit. Soon enough, they are all hit and a cease fire was called, the sudden silence chilling in the evening air.

 

Mr. Rocastle walks over to the nearest one to see no blood, only straw. “Like he said, straw,” he mutters to himself, thinking over the brief battle involving Mrs. Smith and her maid.

 

“Then, no one’s dead, sir?” a boy who followed after him asks. “We killed no one?”

 

The sound of feet crushing gravel beneath them comes from ahead and both Headmaster and student turn to see a little girl.

 

“Stand to!” Mr. Rocastle shouts to those behind him as he looks at the lost little girl. “You, child, come out of the way. Come into the school, you don’t know who’s out there.” He holds out his hand for her to take, bending his knees a little to look her more in the eye. “It’s the Cartwright girl, isn’t it? Come here. Come to me.”

 

“Headmaster, wait!” Mr. Johnson shouts to him, taking a gun from a student and aiming it at the girl.

 

“Mr. Johnson! I order you to stand down at once!” Mr. Rocastle demands, stepping in front of the girl.

 

“But she’s a part of it!” Mr. Johnson says as he steps forward.

 

“You were given orders, soldier,” Mr. Rocastle tells him sharply.

 

“But, sir! She’s one of them! She was in the dance hall with Baines and Mr. Clark! She’s dangerous, sir, you have to stay back!”

 

“Mr. Johnson, I’ve seen many strange sights this night, so I want you to be absolutely certain of yourself,” Mr. Rocastle warns him. “Because there is little cause on God’s Earth that would allow me to see this child in harms way.”

 

“You’re funny,” the girl giggles at him and Mr. Rocastle looks down to see the same thing he saw in Baines’ eyes. “So funny,” she repeats before pulling out a gun and vaporizing him in a flash. “Now, who’s going to shoot me?” She challenges with a cruel smile. “Mr. Johnson?”

 

Mr. Johnson steadies his gun, his breath hitching as he looks at the smiling child. He doesn’t know why she gives him time to aim, but when he pulls the trigger of the gun, nothing happens. He’s out of bullets, and as he looks beyond the girl, he can see more of her kind coming to join her and knows he's out of time as well.

 

“Put your guns down,” he tells the boys, dropping his own useless one.

 

“But, sir, the Headmaster,” Hutchinson argues.

 

“I’ll not let any of you shed blood. You will retreat in an orderly fashion back through the school,” he commands, his head hung in resignation “Hutchinson, lead the way.”

 

“But, sir!”

 

“I said, lead the way,” Mr, Johnson tells him firmly, his eyes never shifting from where the girl was smiling sweetly at them.

 

“Well, go on, then,” Baines taunts as he comes to join his Sister. “Run!” He fires his gun up in the air just to see them scramble away faster. “Reanimate!” he tells his scarecrows, who jerk back to life.

 

“Brother of Mine, this one tried to kill me,” Lucy tells Baines, putting to good use her young, childlike voice. Baines sizes Mr. Johnson up. He had been the only one not to run.

 

“Well, Sister of Mine, we can’t have that, can we?”

 

Mr. Johnson holds his head high as Lucy aims her gun at him. His eyes are on the stars as he dies.


	7. I Mean, Really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhhhhhh..... sorry?? I've just been stuck and blocked on this story. I didn't want to finish putting this one out there until i was like, halfway through the next episode, but it looks like that's not really happening, but I'm trying.

“One of these boys has got to be the little Time Lord,” Not Jenny states. “This one?” She points with her gun to one of the captured students.

  
“No,” Lucy replies boredly.

 

“This one?” Baines asks next, pointing to a quivering student on his knees.

 

“No.”

 

“This one?” Not Jenny asks shoving her gun in the boy’s face to see him flinch.

 

“No.”

 

“Get off me! I said get off me!” Hutchinson shouts as he struggles against the hold of a scarecrow.

 

“Ah! This one, is that him?” Baines asks as he walks towards Hutchinson.

 

Lucy sniffs. “No.”

 

“Right then, we can kill this lot.” They take aim, but then pause as the scent of the little Time Lord fills the room. “That’s it!”

 

“Outside!” Not Jenny shouts pushing the boy she held away from her and sprinting to the stairs.

 

“Don’t just stand there,” Hutchinson tells his fellow students as he straightens out his shirt. The aliens had left with their scarecrows and he wanted to capitalize on this. “Outside. Come on, out!”

 

\--

 

Tim is running along the edge of the woods, keeping an ear out for the Family or do a whisper from the TARDIS, when he hears the engine of Mr. Clark’s truck not far off.

 

“Mrs. Smith! Oh, Mrs. Smith!” Mr. Clark calls out sing-songily. “Come back, Mrs. Smith. Come home. Come and claim your prize!” Time moves as silently as he can to see what the alien is talking about.

 

“Out you come, Mrs. Smith, you and your little Time Tot. There’s a good girl. Come to the Family,” Baines sneers out, clapping his hands together like he’s calling for a wayward dog.

 

“Time to end it now,” Not Jenny says and Tim’s heart breaks a little. Jenny was one of the only maids who was nice to him, and now she’s gone. He hadn’t thought about it before when he slammed a chair into her, but now, seeing her hair out of place, a cut above one eye, and her limping, he can’t help but to think about the person she once was. “Come out, Mrs. Smith. Come to us!”

 

“Well, there goes plan A,” A voice off to his left whispers. It sounds like Mrs. Smith, though he’s hesitant to move to find out.

 

“Well, we can’t get to Her now,” Martha sighs out. If he strains his eyes, he can just make out their forms in the bushes a little ways away from where he’s hiding. He has to stretch his neck out to see where they’re looking at where the TARDIS is sat on the bed of Mr. Clark’s truck. One of the curse words he heard Martha utter the other day comes to mind at the scene.

 

“I’m sorry, but do you mean to say that that blue box is your ship?” Matron Redfern asks.

 

“She’s called the TARDIS,” Mrs. Smith answers. “That was our only hope of stopping them.”

 

“And now?” Martha asks.

 

“This way,” Matron Redfern tells them, Tim seeing her shift to stand. “I think I know somewhere we can hide.”

 

“Where?” Mrs. Smith asks as she also stands.

 

“Just follow me, Rose,” The Matron says softly and Tim waits for them to sneak away before moving.

 

\--

 

“Power up,” Baines says with a smile on his face. “Fully armed and ready. Mother, Father, Sister of Mine, prepare the armaments. I doubt that England is ready for this. Fix targets and begin counting down.”

 

\--

 

“Oh, here we are,” Joan pants out. “It should be empty. Oh, it’s been a long time since I’ve run that far.”

 

“But, who lives here?” Martha asks as she looks the house over, her feet are hurting more than anything else, but she’s also slightly out of breath. Rose, meanwhile, doesn’t even look like that small trek phased her.

 

“If I’m right, no one,” Joan replies as she walks over to the door and slowly opens it. “Hello?” she asks as she enters, Rose and Martha right behind her. “No one home. We should be safe here.”

 

“Whose house is this?” Rose asks as she takes in the small kitchen.

 

“Er, the Cartwrights. That little girl at the school, she’s Lucy Cartwright, or she’s taken Lucy Cartwright’s form. If she came home this afternoon and if the parents tried to stop their little girl, then they were vanished,” Joan explains her reasoning. She walks over and touches the teapot on the stove. “Stone cold. How easily I accept these ideas.”

 

“That was brilliant!” Rose tells Joan with a wide smile. Joan’s smile in return isn’t as big, but it’s genuine.

 

“Okay, so we have a place to hide,” Martha states as she sits down in a chair. “Now what?” She was getting tired of asking that question.

 

“Now, I’m going to go face ‘em before anyone else dies,” Rose tells her, shifting as if to leave.

 

“Oh, no you don’t,” Martha says getting up and blocking her path.

 

“You can’t,” Joan says at the same time. “Surely there must be something else we can do.”

 

“Not without the TARDIS,” Rose says wringing her hands. She doesn’t want to tell them that even if they were in the TARDIS, she still wouldn’t know what to do.

 

“And you?” Joan asks Martha turning to face her. “You’re her companion, are you not? Can’t you help? Can’t you come up with something to do? What exactly do you do for her? Why does she need you?”

 

“Hey now,” Rose starts to say trying to calm things down, but Martha speaks up over her.

 

“Because she’s lonely.” Martha looks straight at the Matron, eyes steady as she replies.

 

“That’s not why-” A knock at the door interrupts Rose for the second time.

 

“What if it’s them?” Joan asks as Rose and Martha turn to open the door, hand stretched out as if to stop them from answering.

 

“I’m not an expert, but I don’t think scarecrows knock,” Martha says with a little bit of bite to her words.

 

“Hello,” Tim says nervously as the door opens. He scoots past Martha and Rose to come fully into the house and Martha checks the surroundings before closing the door, making sure the curtain fully covers the window.

 

“Tim!” Rose greets, hugging the boy to her before looking him over. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I let them lead you away. How did you find us?”

 

“It’s okay, Mrs. Smith, I’m fine. I followed you,” he confesses a slight blush to his cheeks. “Your ring told me to find you. It wants you to hide.”

 

Rose looks down at her left hand. “My- my  _ ring _ ?”

 

“I heard it whispering to me the other day. It wants to protect you,” he tells her. “And I also found that blue box- the TARDIS- in the barn on Mr. Clark’s property. It showed me horrible images, but it also wanted to warn me about the Family.”

 

“The Family?” Rose asks at the same time Martha asks, “How?”

 

“You knew this whole time?” Joan asks him as Rose and Martha whisper to each other. “Why didn’t you say something?”

 

“Because it was waiting. And because… I was scared of what might happen.”

 

“Why?” That part catches Rose’s attention.

 

“Because I’ve seen it, the horrors out there in the world,” he says and a chill goes down Rose’s spine. “And I saw Mrs. Smith stop it, bathed in gold. Like the sun in the heart of the storm.”

 

“No,” Rose whispers, face paling as she realizes what he’s talking about.

 

“She was ancient and forever,” he continues, eyes glazed as he remembers the vision of Rose. “She burned at the Centre of Time, saw the turn of the Universe, held it in her hands. The Bad Wolf.”

 

“Stop!” Rose shouts at him scaring Martha and Joan. “Don’t say those words.”

 

“Why not?” Martha asks, wondering why those words made Rose so scared.

 

“She was wonderful,” Tim says as if Rose hadn’t said anything. “Beautiful.” Tears falls down his face as the vision fades.

 

“No, Tim, you must stop,” Rose tells him with a shake of his shoulders. “It was deadly. A power that wasn’t meant for anyone.” She kneels down to look him in the eyes, wiping away his tears. “Do you understand me? That is a name that should never be spoken.” Martha wonders what Rose is talking about, she knows they sound familiar, like she’s read them somewhere before, but then she remembers something.

 

“But you said them,” she tells Rose.

 

“What?”

 

“When you were facing Baines,” Martha says not liking the panic in Rose’s eyes. “You told him you were the Bad Wolf.”

 

“I- I  _ did _ ?” Rose asks her, voice small.

 

“You don’t remember?”

 

The earth shakes, a large boom following, and the house rattles, breaking the tension within the room.

 

“What the hell?” Rose asks as she gets up. Her and Martha go over to one of the windows to see a fireball falling out of the sky, crashing to the ground where the school was, the earth rumbling again as it lands.

 

\--

 

“This’ll flush ‘em out,” Baines says as he fiddles with the controls of the Family’s spaceship. “This’ll do it. Super, super fun.”

 

\--

 

“They’re destroying the village,” Joan gasps out, hand to mouth as she takes in the horrid sight of the fire even through the curtain.

 

“You said my ring was whispering something to you, Tim?” Rose asks looking down at it resting on her finger. She strained her ears to see if she could hear anything, but there was nothing from the ring. It sat there, silently.

 

“Can you hear it?” Tim asks, cocking his head to the side.

 

_ “Hide Her. Protect Her.” _

 

“No,” Rose tells him sadly, feeling like she should be able to.

 

“Why did it speak to me?” Tim asks, ignoring her as he concentrated on whatever her ring was saying. “Why me?”   
  


Rose feels the eyes of everyone on her and clears her throat as she tried to come up with an answer. The Doctor would’ve been better at this, he would’ve actually known the answer.

 

“You’re probably some form of telepathic,” she says hesitantly, trying to remember what the Doctor said in Cardiff. “Had a friend once, Gwen, she was born on top of a Rift an’ that made her telepathic. Only, instead of hearin’ Gelth, you hear the TARDIS an’ my ring.”

 

“Can  _ you  _ hear Her?” Tim asks, his eyes going wide as he looks up at her. He’s afraid she’ll say no, that he’ll be left alone with this, whatever this was.

 

“Yes,” she says with a small smile, her hand coming up to push his hair back. “But not since we’ve crashed here. She shut down an’ I’ve yet to hear a peep.”

 

“So, why have I?”

 

“‘M sorry, Tim, I don’t know.” Rose takes his hand and squeezes gently.

 

Another explosion rocks the house and they all break apart to go to separate windows to look out of.

 

“It’s getting closer,” Tim points out.

 

“I have to go an’ stop them,” Rose says, going once more to the door. Martha, once more, stands in her way.

 

“You can’ do that!” She shouts thinking of Old New York, but that blank stare she saw in Hooverville is nowhere to be found in Rose’s eyes now. In its place is a burning fire, a rage so powerful, it shadows everything else. Martha knows now what Tim meant when he said she was like a sun in the heart of a storm as her eyes take on a golden glint that must be from them catching the fire. She also now knows why Rose was so scared of that power.

 

“If they want a Time Lady, they can have her,” Rose says with a snarl.

 

“I can’t let you do this,” Joan says, coming over to grip Rose’s arm as if that would stop her. Martha, sensing this was something that the two of them shouldn't witness, leads Tim out of the house to stand a ways away.

 

“But, if I don’t, everyone in the village dies,” Rose tells her, trying to get Joan to see.

 

“What’ll happen if you go? What if they kill you?” Joan asks, tears in her eyes as she look at the fantastic woman. She didn’t think Rose and Oliver had much in common at first, but seeing her like this now, she knows. They were too much alike for her to bear.

 

“I can’t let that stop me from helping,” Rose says. “There are people out there who need my help, and this is the only way I can give it to them.”

 

“By dying?” Her voice comes out with a tremble, but she can’t help it. Too much alike for their own good.

 

“By stopping those doing the killing.”

 

Joan’s eyes roam her face for a good minute before she pulls Rose to her and kisses her harshly. Rose is too shocked, too startled to do anything but stand there.

 

Joan pulls back a couple of seconds later, her face flushed, highlighting the tears streaming down her face.

 

“You have to promise me to be careful,” she demands of Rose.

 

Rose just sticks to a nod, not quite trusting her voice to work. She walks out of the house, stunned at what just happened, to see a teasing grin on Martha’s face that would rival Jack’s.

 

“Well, don’t you look-” Martha starts with a teasing tone.

 

“Martha! Not in front of Tim!” Rose shouts at her, coming out of her fog and feeling heat crawl into her cheeks.

 

“You’re leaving me again,” Martha says a second later, sobering up.

 

“I’ll come back,” Rose tell her, swallowing down her guilt. “I wouldn’t leave you here.”   
  
“You better,” Martha says, a flash of fear crossing over her face before she straightens her spine and walks back to the house.

 

“I would take you with me, but,” Rose trails off.

 

“I understand,” Martha tells her, not turning around from the doorway.

 

“I’ll be back.”

 

“I’ll be waiting.” And with that, Martha enters the house and shuts the door.

 

“I want to go with you,” Tim says and Rose had almost forgotten he was there.

 

“Tim,” Rose says trying to get him to understand.

 

“They think you’re the Bad Wolf and I’m a Time Lord,” he tells her throwing whatever she was going to tell him under the bus.

 

She thinks it over. 

 

“When I tell you to run, you run without question,” she tells him sternly and he nods.

 

“I just want to help,” he says as she leads them to where the Family’s spaceship was.


	8. What If She Becomes Him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on vacation and won't have access to my computer so I thought I'd upload the last chapter of this episode for y'all before I go. Enjoy!

“We’ll blast them into dust, then fuse the dust into glass, then shatter them all over again,” Baines says with glee, eyes alight with violence. He stops fiddling with the console when their ship door opens.

 

“Wait!” a boy shouts as he comes into the ship hands first, it’s the boy who hit Mother Mine with a chair. The landing of another bomb rocks the ship, making him fall clumsily against the column of switches. “Just wait,” he says again as he steadies himself. “Please, stop the bombardment. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll do anything you want, just,  _ please _ stop.”

 

“Plead again,” Baines demands, liking the desperate way the Time Tot talked.

 

_ “Please,” _ he presses, a quiver to his lips that Baines finds delicious

 

Mother Mine activates the control panel only to stop. “Wait a minute,” she says sniffing deeply. “He’s human!” That has the rest of the Family on edge waiting for the attack.

 

“Now, I can’t- I can’t pretend to understand,” the boy says as he fidgets about. “Not for a second, but I want you to know, I’m innocent. They  _ made _ me human. It’s not like I had any say in it!”

 

“You think that excuses your actions, _ boy, _ ” Mother Mine spits out, hand coming up to clutch her side.

 

“I- I want you to know that I don’t know anything of Time Lords or your Family, I- I mean I’m not even sure what a Bad Wolf  _ is _ ! I just- I want you to leave,” he tells them, wringing his hands in a nervous tick only humans had. “So I decided you can have it,” he says, the little Time Tot holds out a red ball. “Take it, please. Take it and leave.”

 

“At last,” Baines says, his eyes never leaving the ball in the boys hands. He takes it from him, grabbing him by the collar with his other hand in a familiar move. “Don’t think that this has saved your life,  _ human _ ,” he hisses at the boy before shoving him away, eyes already back to the red ball that held the Time Lords life essence. He pays no mind as the boy leaves the ship, holding the ball aloft as he thinks of all the things he can do with an infinite lifespan.

 

“But, how to open?” Mother Mine asks as she stares at the ball.

 

“You idiot!” Mrs. Smith’s voice shouts as she comes running into the ship. “Run, little boy, I’ll deal with you later!”

  
“You’re too late,” Baines tells her, holding the ball to his chest.

 

Mrs. Smith raises an eyebrow that has him quaking despite himself. She looks them over before sighing.

 

“Whatever,” she says, dismissing them. “I was tasked with protecting the boy, not his essence and I’ve no need for prey such as you. You may leave if you promise to not set foot in this quadrant for the next thousand years.”

 

Baines ruffles at that, insulted at how quickly she dismisses them, flippant with their words despite the might they’ll soon possess.

 

“Yes, yes,” Baines says hastily, impatient to get this started. “How do we open it?” He studies the red ball again, looking for a catch or opening of some sort.

 

“Throw it at your feet,” Mrs. Smith says.

 

“Yes,” Baines hisses in victory. He throws it on the ground, getting ready to inhale deeply, but nothing happens.

 

“It’s empty!” Sister Mine shouts.

 

“Where’s it gone?” Baines turns to demand of Mrs. Smith, but she is no longer there, instead other balls like the one given to him roll towards them. “Get ou-!” Is all he has time to say before the ship explodes.

 

\--

 

Rose books it out of the spaceship as Baines holds the red ornament bomb over his head. She runs as far away as she can from the ship, hiding behind a tree just as it explodes, the sound of debris hitting the ground making her grimace. Tears come to her eyes as she hears the flames and she hopes that Tim hadn’t stopped running until he hit the Cartwright’s house.

 

She walks her way back to the field, sonic in hand to calm the fires from spreading. Looking into the brightness of the flames, she’s never felt like such a failure before. She couldn’t find a way to peacefully talk these aliens out of hunting and killing, not that she really thought they knew how to do anything else. She knew that made them dangerous, but she found a solution for the Racnoss, and maybe if she had more time, she could’ve found a solution for the Family, too.

 

The heat of the fire makes her think of how the Doctor just stood there as Cassandra dried out, creaking and cracking, claiming that everything dies. She hopes she doesn’t ever become that callous as she waits for him to get back.

 

Once the fire was out, she walks numbly back to the Cartwrights house, keeping an eye out for a lost Tim while her mind spins with all the other options she could’ve tried.

 

“Is it done?” Joan asks, bringing Rose from her morbid thoughts.

 

“Yeah,” she answers quietly, head down so they couldn’t tell she had cried. “It’s done.”

 

“The police and the army should be arriving at daylight,” Joan tells her, hands clutching tightly at her skirts. “And the parents will want to take the boys home.” She waits for Rose to say something but a minute passes and she gives up. “I should go help those injured.”

 

“Yeah,” Rose says again distantly watching Joan walk back towards the school. She’s really thinking of what Tim had told her, how her ring was protecting her, and she wants to know what that means, but is too scared to ask.

 

“Rose?” Martha asks coming over to touch her shoulder. It’s just them and Tim now, him staying behind instead of walking with the Matron.

 

“I’m fine,” Rose tells her, plastering a smile on her face as she finally looks up. Martha gives her a look like she doesn’t believe her, but, thankfully, she doesn’t call Rose out on it.

 

“Well, Tim, we’ll take you back to the school,” Rose says after clearing her throat and wiping her face.

 

“But, what about your TARDIS?”

 

“I’ll have it fixed up in no time now that She’s awake,” Rose tells him, already feeling her connection with the ship awakening as She comes back online. The song She sings soothing away the worst of her fears.

 

\--

 

She fakes the cheery facade all throughout dropping Tim back at the school and walking to where the Family had put the truck with the TARDIS on it, but, once those doors opened and she saw her home, she felt the tears return.

 

It wasn’t the first time she’s killed somebody, not even the first time she’s killed somebody that’s been possessed, but that didn’t make it any easier.

 

“I’m sorry, Martha,” Rose tells her as she kicks a wrench from her path and sitting down on the jump seat.

 

“For what?” Martha asks. “Getting us stuck here, or for leaving me behind but taking Tim with you?” Rose flinches at her cold tone.

 

“Both,” Rose says honestly. 

 

“Well, like I said before, the us getting stuck here weren’t your fault,” Martha says as she walks around the console. “And as for leaving me behind,” she trails off, coming to stand in front of Rose. She looks her in the eyes locking their hands together. “I want to thank you.”

 

“What?” Rose asks confused, new tears springing up.

 

“You told me to stay behind so I wouldn’t have to witness it, the explosion,” Martha explains. “You were shielding me, protecting me, and I want to thank you for that.” Rose tries to take in the fact that Martha wasn’t blaming her for everything. “But don’t do it again,” Martha continues. She lightly punches Rose’s shoulder. “I’m a big girl and I can handle it.”

 

“Okay,” Rose says slowly, feeling a mixture of emotions well up inside her. Martha wasn’t angry with her and Rose felt a huge weight fall from her shoulders.

 

“Now, get to fixing,” Martha commands plopping down next to her on the jump seat. “I  _ hate  _ 1913.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Rose laughs out, giving her a mock salute before going over to the wrench and picking it up.

 

\--

 

Since the army and police were coming, Rose had to drive the truck away from the school and the crater still smoldering in Cooper’s Field. She left the school to deal with themselves as she worked on fixing the TARDIS, the fixes coming along much better with Her guiding Rose to the problem areas.

 

Martha has to sneak into the school to get them meals as the kitchen was still regathering since they needed running water in their bathrooms more than the kitchen. They both stayed in their showers for a good couple of hours after the TARDIS coming back online, Rose coming out looking very pink and complementing that Martha looked refreshed and glowy.

 

It took Rose about two days working almost nonstop to get Her back up to snuff, but she made a mental note to top Her off at Cardiff after they said their goodbyes.

 

“You want a tour, Tim,” Rose asks the boy as he stares up at the Time Rotor. He was still waiting for his parents to arrive to take him away and had enjoyed sitting with Rose as she worked under the console.

 

“C- Can I?” He asks hesitantly, not wanting to make the wrong move.

 

“Of course,” Rose says moving to show him the wonders of the TARDIS, but Martha takes him by the shoulders first.

 

“I know you could give him a better tour than me, but do you mind if we explore together instead?” Martha asks with an odd look in her eye.

 

“Uh, sure, jus’ if you get lost, follow the lights,” Rose says, the lights in the hallway trailing off in a blinking pattern at her words in explanation.

 

“Thanks,” Martha says rushing Tim past. “The Matron’s outside for you,” she whispers leaning in close to Rose before walking away.

 

“Ah,” Rose says. That would explain her odd look. Rose exits the TARDIS and sees Joan waiting on the ground next to the truck. She hops down and walks over to lean against the truck bed, waiting for Joan to say something first.

 

“I don’t know what to say,” Joan says a minute later looking up at the TARDIS.

 

“Come with us,” Rose offers knowing that it might seem out of nowhere.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Take a trip with us,” Rose explains reaching out to grab one of Joan’s hands.

 

“Where?”

 

“Anywhere,” Rose says with a shrug. “Wherever you want to go.”   
  
“But that’s not fair,” Joan tells her slipping her hand away. “What must I look like to you, Rose? I must seem so very stupid.”

 

“No,” Rose protests. “Joan-”

  
  
“I  _ kissed _ you,” Joan says shakily. “I kissed you and you ran away.”

 

“I had to stop them,” Rose tells her looking down at her feet.

 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

 

“Joan,” Rose says again, searching for a way to explain. “I like you, I really do, that’s why I want you to come with us for an adventure to see the stars. It’s jus’...”

 

“You don’t like me as I you,” Joan finishes. “And that’s why I can’t go with you.”

  
  
“Why not?” Rose can feel tears gathering in her eyes once more and has to force them down.

 

“Because everytime I look at you my heart hurts,” Joan says plainly. “I look at your face and see a brave, beautiful woman who reminds me so much of my late husband it  _ kills _ me. But you’re in love with someone who is not here- who is not  _ me. _ ” Joan hastily wipes a falling tear from her face, voice shaking on her last word and Rose can see how much this is killing her as well.

 

“I understand,” Rose tells her with a sad smile, because she truthfully does. Travelling with the Doctor was everything to her, but to look at him and know that his love for her would never be as she wants it to be killed her to think about. She loved both the Doctor  _ and _ the life he showed her, but it hurt to be reminded of how they could never be. She thought Joan was a brave woman as well, to turn down the life Rose was offering. “I want to thank you for being my friend, for saving my life, and for more than I can even express. You are a brave woman as well, Joan Redfern, and I don’t want you to ever forget that.”

 

Rose pulls Joan in for a hug, both clinging to the other to hold back their tears, but, eventually, they lean back and let go.

 

Joan watches as Rose easily climbs onto the truck bed and walks back into the blue box.

 

“Too much alike for my own good,” she whispers to herself before turning and heading towards the road leading to the school.

 

\--

 

Joan is cleaning up her clinic when a knock at the door makes her look up.

 

“Martha,” she sniffs out trying to appear as if she had not just been crying her heart out.

 

“She’s different from any other person you’ve ever met, right?” Martha asks in lieu of a greeting coming into the clinic and closing the door behind her.

 

“Yes,” Joan says a little startled at how bold Martha is being, but she remembers the comment the maid gave to the Headmaster and realises there was more to Martha than she first thought.

 

“And sometimes she says strange things, like people and places you’ve never heard of, yeah?” Joan just stares at her as she talks wondering where Martha was going with this. “But it’s deeper than that. Sometimes, when you look in her eyes, you just know there’s something else there. Something hidden, right behind the eyes. Some unknown knowledge of something you couldn’t possibly comprehend that makes her look older than she seems.”

 

“Yes,” Joan agrees again, swallowing thickly as she thinks back to the times she had seen in Rose something more than the average woman should hold in her eyes.

 

“I may not know a lot about her, but I know this, she’s lonely,” Martha tells her.

 

“You said that before,” Joan points out. “What does that mean? Lonely how? I thought the widow act was just that.”

 

Martha shakes her head. “Before I met her, there was a battle, like nothing you could imagine. It killed people, it killed a lot of people, including her whole family. And she was a witness.” Joan gasps. “Sometimes I find her staring at me with a far off gaze, like she’s seeing through me, like she’s seeing another person there. So it may seem like an act, but she is very much on her own.”

 

“Oh, Rose,” Joan sobs out, her tears returning.

 

“She’s lonely, yes,” Martha says again. “But she’s trying to pick her life back up again. And she’ll take you to places you would never have imagined existed. It’s wonderful and exciting and messy and totally worth it.”

 

“What are you saying?” Joan asks through her tears.

 

“I’m saying that even though I don't really care for you, you are Rose’s friend. I’m saying that you should say yes,” Martha tells her. “Let us take you out to the stars.”

 

“But I  _ can’t, _ ” Joan says shaking her head.

 

“Why?”

 

“For the longest time, I thought I would never get over Oliver,” Joan confesses trying to collect her words to try to explain. “And then she stumbles into my dull life. And she was so nice and sincere and  _ breathtaking _ . I never had a thought about- about women like that before, but with her it was easy.” She turns as she says this to set down the pages of a book she had crumpled in her hands, staying with her back turned to Martha, finding it easier to talk like this. “So, traveling with her, knowing that she won’t look at me the same way, knowing that her heart yearns for another, I can’t do it. It’ll break my heart.”

 

Martha comes up and places a hand on her back before walking to stand in front of her.

 

“I can see you’ve made up your mind,” she says and Joan looks up to see her eyes full of a sad kind of understanding. “But there’s something you should know if you’re staying.”

 

“What?”

 

Martha looks over to the closed door before leaning in closer to Joan. “Next year, there’s going to be a war. A big one- the War to End all Wars, they’ll call it. It’ll take four years to end and-” she cuts herself off with a shake of her head. “Just know that it will not be pleasant.” Martha knows she could get in trouble for telling the Matron this, that she could change timelines or whatever, but if the Matron was staying here, then she ought to know.

 

“Then this is all the more reason,” Joan says with a hard face. “I cannot leave these boys to die, any more than I can leave this… planet.”

 

“You’re a good woman, Matron,” Martha tells her, hand briefly clasping hers before she walks back over towards the door. “I hope to see you again one day.”

 

“I never thought women of your colour could ever become doctor’s,” Joan tells her and she sees Martha tense at her words, so she gives her a warm smile. “But I’m glad that’ll change, if it means you get to be one. Become a great doctor, Martha.”

 

“Thank you,” Martha says before walking out of the clinic and towards the entrance of the school, now knowing how her and Rose became friends.

 

\--

 

“Heya, Tim, how was it?” Rose asks as the boy comes back into the console room with stars in his eyes. He reminds Rose of herself after she forced the Doctor to give her a proper tour of the place.

 

Tim shakes his head, coming out of his reverie to come stand next to her. “I loved it!” He shouts wrapping his arms around her for a brief hug.

 

“Good, I’m glad,” Rose says with a smile. If he were a couple of years older, she would have offered him a spot in the TARDIS, but he was too young and needed to be with his parents for a few more years yet.

 

“I just wanted to say thank you,” he says as he lets her go. “And goodbye. Because I’ve seen the future and I now know what must be done.”

 

“Tim?” Rose asks him in confusion.

 

“It’s coming isn’t it? The biggest war ever?”

 

“Yes,” Rose hesitantly agrees. “But you don’t have to fight.”

 

“I think we do,” Tim says a grave look in his eyes. He’s already haunted by a war that has yet to come.

 

“You could get hurt.”

 

“Well, so could you,” Tim retorts. “Traveling as you do, but it’s not going to stop you, is it?”

 

“No, no it won’t,” Rose agrees, hand coming up to tweak his nose. “But it’s not always dangerous.”

 

“Ha! Pull the other one,” Martha says as she steps into the TARDIS. “Tim, I thought you went back to wait for your parents.” 

 

“They haven’t arrived yet,” he tells her with a shake of his head. “They live further away than most.”

 

“Hey, Tim,” Rose says getting his attention. She walks over to the console and picks something up before tossing it to him. He looks down to see a pocket watch. “I know you saw the future, but maybe this will remind you to stay focused on the present.”

 

“I can’t hear anything,” Tim says as he opens the watch to see an ordinary watch face with the swirly circles engraved on the inside.

 

“Nah, it’s just a watch,” Rose tells him. “But maybe it’ll bring you luck.” Rose ruffles his hair and kisses his forehead. “You ready, Martha?”

 

“ _ God _ yes!” Martha shouts taking her apron and flinging it away from her. Rose laughs at her dramatics as she sees Tim to the door.

 

“You’ll like this, Tim,” Rose says with a wink before shutting the door and running up to the console. She quickly sets up the dematerialisation sequence, imagining the look on Tim’s face as they disappear.

 

Tim watches them go with wonder and awe, dimly noting that the warm song in the back of his head faded as the box did as well.

 

“Goodbye, Mrs. Smith, Martha,” He tells the spot where the TARDIS once was, a smile on his face as he clutches the pocket watch in his hand.

 

\--

 

TWO YEARS LATER

 

Latimer opens his pocket watch with a muddy hand.

 

“One minute past the hour,” he says to himself. “It’s now. Hutchinson, this is the time. It’s now.” He looks up as a shell whistles its way towards them. “To the right! To the right!” He yells, pushing Hutchinson to run and then to leap into a nearby crater.

 

The shell goes off where they once were, raining chunks of dirt upon them, the landing of it briefly stopping the sounds of gunfire that was never ending.

 

“We made it,” Latimer exclaims looks at Hutchinson and then the watch he still clutched in his hand. “Thank you, Bad Wolf!” He says to the sky before putting the watch away. “Now, come along, chap.” He claps a hand on Hutchinson’s shoulder to get him to stand.

 

“Leave me,” Hutchinson squeals out with a shake of his head. “I’m not going to make it.” He’s breathing fast and his face is etched with fear, but Latimer has no time for it.

 

“Oh, yes you are! Now, come on. And that’s an order!”

 

\--

 

EIGHTY-ODD YEARS LATER

 

“They have no lot in our labour of the day time,” the Vicar reads. “They sleep beyond England’s foam. They went with songs to the battle.”

 

Latimer is watching the War Memorial from his wheelchair, his gnarled hand clutching the pocket watch that got him through the war. His medals gleam in the soft light of the day, but it’s not this that catches his eye.

 

“They were young, straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow. They were staunch to the end against the odds uncounted.”

 

Coming upon where he’s sat is Mrs. Smith and Martha, both wearing Memorial Poppies and proud smiles as they spot him. Both not having aged a day.

 

“They fell with their faces to the foe. They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them.”

 

“Why hello there,” Mrs. Smith greets as she reaches him.

 

“Do we know you?” His grandson asks from behind him and Latimer lets out a chuckle.

 

“It’s alright, Jeremy, they’re old friends,” Latimer explains smiling up at Mrs. Smith and Martha.

 

“Who are you calling old, Tim?” Martha jokes setting the bundle of flowers in her hands in his lap. 

 

“You should know better than to comment on a lady’s age,” Rose joins in to tease as well.

 

“I hadn’t thought the school librarian could scold students,” Latimer jokes back.

 

“Well, I’m no longer the librarian and you are clearly no longer a student,” Rose says leaning down to kiss his cheek. “It’s good to see you again, Tim.”

 

“I knew you would grow up handsome,” Martha says as she swipes a hand through his hair.

 

“And you have yet to grow up at all,” Latimer remarks as he eyes them.

 

“Ah well, you took the long way around,” Rose says with a shrug. “But come on, dish. Who’d ya marry and how many kids did you have?”

 

Latimer chuckles at her. “I missed you, Mrs. Smith,” he tells her.

 

“We missed you, too, Tim,” Rose says with a smile of her own.

 

“So, come on, who’d you marry?” Martha asks with a wide grin.

 

“I met Lilly towards the end of the war and was instantly smitten,” he tells them. “She was such a spitfire, reminded me of you two. She was the best thing to happen to me.” He smiles sadly as he remembers his wife. “It took me three tries to ask her to marry me, but I know she would have said yes every time.”

 

“Life does have a way of messing up your plans,” Rose comments with a fond smile.

 

“Yes it does,” Latimer agrees. “We never wanted a big family, you know, but we wound up having four kids. Three girls and a boy and we found we didn't mind the big family thing.”

 

“Did ya name any after us?”

 

“You know, we did find ourselves with a little Martha and Rosie.”

 

“Aw,” Martha says a hand going to her chest at his naming choices.

 

“You flatterer,” Rose says cheeks burning at the thought of him naming a kid after her.

 

“I’m sorry, but how do you know my grandfather?” Jeremy asks again and Latimer pats his hand.

 

“‘S like he said, we’re old friends,” Rose says before her eyes catch the watch. “It survived.”

 

Latimer looks down at it as well, opening it to show the still working gears, not weathered in the slightest despite going from battlefield to battlefield. He looks over the circular etching on the inside face, the symbols still making him dizzy as he stares at them, but they never told him anything, and for that, he was grateful.

 

“It kept me alive,” he tells her.

 

“Good, I’m glad,” Rose says with a fond smile. “We just came from seeing Joan- The Matron- dropped off some flowers for her and saw that you were here as well.”

 

“Matron Redfern,” Latimer says as he thinks over what he remembers of her. “Or rather Mrs. Williams as she later remarried.”

 

“Yeah, we saw that,” Martha says in surprise. “It’s good she found love again, eh, Rose?”

 

“Oh, leave off, Martha,” Rose sighs out, rolling her eyes and Latimer lets out a laugh. It was like nothing had changed.

 

He felt a sudden pressure on his mind before a warm presence made itself known with a soothing song.

 

“Do you think I could see Her one last time?” He asks regretting not being able to travel with them when he was younger.

 

“Of course!” Rose obliged. “I should have thought of it. We could even go somewhere if you want.”

 

“I don’t know if my old bones could handle that, but just to see Her again would be wonderful.”

 

“Nonsense, you have the sparkle of a 12 year old,” Rose tells him.

 

“Wait a minute, where are you taking my grandfather!” Jeremy shouts hating to be ignored.

 

“I’ll be alright, Jeremy. Why don’t you go on home? I’ll be back later,” Latimer tells him as Rose takes control of his wheelchair and leads him away from the Memorial.

 

“Grandfather!” Jeremy shouts uselessly but the three are too wrapped up in their talking to notice him.

 

\--

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go somewhere? I could hover Her above the Earth, no going anywhere fantastic.”

 

“Hovering above the Earth isn’t fantastic?” Latimer asks her as she makes her way around the console and inputs the data.

 

“Well, I meant no where adventurous,” Rose amends. “It is a pretty fantastic view, especially when you see it being formed.”

 

“You saw the Big Bang?” Martha asks as she steadies Tim’s wheelchair.

 

“Yeah, with Donna,” Rose tells her before walking over to the doors and flinging them open. “There’s a force field that’s keeping the air an’ us in, so there’s no need to worry.”

 

“Whoa,” Martha says echoing Latimer’s thoughts. “I didn’t know She could do this.”

 

“Donna was the one to figure it out, actually,” Rose explains as she comes over and sits down to let her legs dangle off into space. Martha copies her after making sure Tim’s wheelchair breaks were pushed.

 

“Was Donna a companion before I joined on?” Martha asks curious as to how many people had traveled with Rose before her.

 

“I thought she was going to be, but she turned me down. I don’t know if it’s happened yet for you or not, but the Christmas Star Incident was where I met her.”

 

Martha thinks about it. “Doesn’t sound familiar,” she says with a shake of her head. “Why’d she turn you down? Do you know?”

  
  
“Well, her fiancee had just died, but as it turns out he was using her to awaken this alien species that was at the centre of the Earth. He poisoned her coffee every day for six months and had only agreed to marry her so she wouldn’t work somewhere else.”

 

“What a jerk.”

 

“Right?”

 

“Wait, did you say there’s an alien species at the centre of the Earth?” Latimer asks looking over the Earth with a new light.

 

“I wouldn’t worry about,” Rose tells him with a wave of her hand. “They don’t wake up until years into your future. They actually find a home on a  _ very _ distant planet, I made sure of that.”

 

“No, sorry, going to need more details than that,” Martha says shaking her head. “You can’t just tell us there’s an alien species at the centre of the Earth and then tell us not to worry about it.”

 

“It’s kinda a long story,” Rose says.

 

“Well, from what I remember, we  _ are _ sitting in a time machine,” Latimer points out and Martha nods her head in agreement.

  
  
“That’s very true, thank you for pointing that out, Tim,” Martha says. “Now, spill.”

 

Rose lets out a long, dramatic sigh before getting comfortable. “Okay, but try not to interrupt.”

 

“Promise,” Martha says miming zipping her lips.

 

“Alright, so I walk into the console room, having just showered, when I notice a red head in a wedding dress standing there and I’m like, hold on, how’d you get in here?”

 

\--

 

“It was nice seeing you again, Tim,” Martha says as they drop him off at his nursing home.

 

“As was seeing you two again,” Latimer says with a wide smile. “I enjoyed the story, Rose.”

  
  
“No problem. Maybe we can visit again and tell you some more, this time one’s with Martha in them as well,” Rose says as she leans down to kiss his cheek.

 

“Yeah, we can tell them about how I got kidnapped in New New York  _ and _ Old New York,” Martha says as she takes her turn to kiss his cheek.

 

“Well, I can’t say I’ll mind the visits if you tell me more stories and kiss my cheeks. I only wish Lilly had lived long enough to meet you,” Latimer says with a sigh.

 

“I would have loved to meet her. Maybe next time we visit you should tell us more stories about her,” Martha suggests.

 

“That sounds like a plan,” Latimer says waving them off. He can feel the song in the back of his mind grow in his mind as if to embrace him.

 

_ “Protector,”  _ it whispers to him before fading away. He doesn’t have to look out the window to know that Mrs. Smith and Martha are no longer there. He gives a smile as he thinks over his life.

 

“Were those your grandkids, Mr. Latimer?” One of the nurses asks him.

 

“No, they were old friends,” Latimer tells her as she wheels him away, a grin on his face at the thought of them coming to visit again soon.


End file.
